


Domination Multiverse

by MishMish3000



Category: Draka Series - S. M. Stirling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishMish3000/pseuds/MishMish3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Domination has conquered. On one Earth timeline, the Draka rule not only Earth but the Solar System. Humans have learned to cohabitate with the Draka, and the two species have actually managed to fight off common enemies. Choices about love, loyalty, and hope continue to be explored, as the Draka and their human allies now discover a doorway to multiple universe levels.</p><p>The Draka are a fictional series created by the very inventive mind of S. M. Stirling in his Draka series of books. He depicts a dystopian vision of the possible past, present and future in the hands of people who will themselves to be post-human rulers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Prologue  
The Domination has conquered. 

Gwendolyn Ingolfsson rules as the Planetary Archon of Earth/2; Erin d’Ingolfsson has become a Metic Citizen, as are a few other enhanced humans. The rift between Prime Line and Earth/2 is complete; other planets in the Earth/2 system have Planetary Archons and the Draka have consolidated their power in this time/world line. Mars, Venus, the Moon, and other planetary moon systems are being terraformed and colonized. The Draka have plans to explore the Alpha Centauri system soon…   
Servus and non-modified humans now make up the majority of the Earth/2 population; Draka and Metic Citizens (modified or augmented humans) are a minority but the Draka are definitely still in charge. There are a few transgenes like ghouloons and kawtuh, but few made it through from Prime Line to Earth/2 before the rift happened. 

The population on Earth/2 of humans has actually stabilized and is declining somewhat, due to viral birth control. More and more Servus are being bred and spread throughout the planetary system. Gwen and the other Planetary Archons, though, plan to maintain a viable homo sapiens population. The humans, with their creativity and survival instincts, are a valuable resource for the Domination. Gwen and the other Draka have learned from the hubris displayed by the Prime Line drakensis: by wiping out the human population almost completely, the Draka on Prime Line lost a valuable resource. Gwen also sees that maintaining and ruling a sizable human population is more of a challenge than committing genocide—and Draka are wired to seek out and enjoy challenges, as well as the thrill of ruling humans and others.  
Samothracians who traveled to Earth/2 have managed to maintain a détente between themselves and the ruling Draka. The dual threats of a Prime Line drakensis strategic strike and the probability of a Bug attack in the near future have strengthened the moderates’ positions on both the Draka side and the Samothracian side. 

They’re survivors of the First Bug War, and there’s absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Bugs will be back for a second try. The Samothracian moderate party who developed the détente is small numerically but very powerful politically and is actually able to look past the black/white, evil/good dichotomy they’ve always had concerning the Draka and their own system. Having a whole new universe to explore and exploit offers many opportunities to the Samothracians as well as the Draka.   
Technology continues to advance; the Draka Web has been established throughout the Solar System, enabling near-real-time communication and information exchange. The Draka have allowed the Samothracians very limited, very monitored access to the Web. This was a very contentious point politically with the suspicious-minded Draka, but the programming team led by Erin has solved many of the security concerns. The advantage of having the location of all Samothracians as well as the locations of all other sentient beings in the Solar System appealed to the Draka over their security concerns, and being able to exchange data almost immediately lends itself to defense measures against the expected Bug attack, the possible Prime Line strike, and to exploration and terraforming efforts.

Modified humans like Erin, who because of the interaction of various elements of the augmentations, have developed limited psi-skills, are continuing to be added to the Draka Citizen population, albeit as Metic Citizens, not full Citizens (yet). Erin and the other modified humans are gaining physical and mental abilities that make them nearly as fast, as strong and generally as intelligent as the Draka themselves, but not quite. The Draka have no plans on allowing the humans to equal them. Erin’s son wants more abilities to match the drakensis, but this isn’t going to happen any time soon. Erin constantly has to mediate on that issue.

Erin and Gwen’s personal relationship has continued to grow and deepen. Gwen has begun to realize she can completely trust and actually love Erin, despite Erin being human and Gwen being a Draka. Her trust issues, related to her relationship with her birth mother Marya, are slowly being dealt with as her love and acceptance of Erin grows. Erin’s working through understanding that she and Gwen come from very different backgrounds and cultures, and that those differences may throw up roadblocks occasionally. Their relationship, especially in bed, is honest and comfortable with Gwen being dominant and Erin being more submissive. 

The amazing fact is that they can see beyond roles, cultures and psychologies to the true sense of self and work things out successfully. Other Draka, like Schalk DeLange, who is also in love with Gwen, have had trouble understanding that a Draka can truly love a human instead of another Draka… and Draka don’t like a lot of change, socially or psychologically. But they’re learning to adapt, watching Gwen and Erin work things out. Other Draka/human relationships are beginning. Younger Draka, especially, are more used to the idea and work things out more quickly.

Tamarindus, Schalk and Gwen, as well as other more moderate Draka, are beginning to see that partnerships—even just working relationships—with modified humans are actually developing Draka strengths, not weaknesses. This is causing some concern, actually, among the Samothracians, who have trouble in general understanding why in the world a human would freely choose to stay with the Draka as a serf or even as a Metic Citizen.

Some humans have migrated quite happily to Samothracian outposts. The Draka allow only a tiny minority of humans to emigrate, controlling the process very tightly. But they also use it as an outlet to get restless humans out of their system and into the Samothracian one. Much to the surprise of the Samothracians, many humans elected to stay under the Draka as serfs on Earth/2. They saw benefits in terms of health care, life span length, very little conflict among humans, and the more stable employment atmosphere as reasons to stay with family, friends and familiar surroundings rather than choosing to leave everything to try something new. 

Most humans don’t encounter Draka personally, and their serf status isn’t a real hang-up for many of them, given the benefits the Draka brought to Earth/2. The environment, much to Tom Cairsten’s happiness, is drastically improving, as are the lives of the majority of humans on the planet. Industry is being moved off planet; jobs and education, as well as fantastic health care, are available to all and wars, epidemics and famines are becoming things of the past.

Work on the molehole concept is advancing tremendously. The Samothracians, Draka, modified humans and Servus, especially, are developing ways to maintain fusion energy sources over longer and longer time periods. This allows the mole holes to be semi-permanent. In the 10 years between Erin/3 and Erin/4, molehole transit has become almost routine among stations throughout the Solar System. The power drain is still considerable, but the addition of human creativity to the Servus’ abilities in higher mathematics and applied physics has allowed them to develop new ways of dealing with that. As part of this process, there’s a lot of interchange between the Samothracians and Draka scientists. This is being fueled in part by pure scientific curiosity, part fear of a Bug attack or Prime Line invasion, and partly by the drive to colonize other places in the galaxy.

In many ways, the impetus to the molehole project is like the push behind the Manhattan Project of WW2 in Earth/2’s history or like the New America project in the Prime Line… vast resources including people, money, resources and energy are being applied to solve physics problems that were once considered unsolvable. Many of the molehole components can be manufactured on Earth/2 or in near Earth orbit, providing a massive jobs program that has helped stabilize Earth/2 as a Domination conquest. The Samothracians and Draka, initially very leery of information exchange, are beginning to reap the benefits of scientific collaboration and the molehole project is rapidly meeting with success.

Most of the experiments are being conducted well beyond the Oort asteroid belt, far enough from heavily populated areas to protect them in case there’s a problem… or an incursion. When things go wrong with moleholes, Draka, Samothracian, Servus and human researchers know from painful experience that horrid things can happen in an instant.

At one of the huge molehole platforms, in orbit around Titan, an accident occurs. The results of the accident will test the détente between the Draka and the Samothracians; it’ll present humans with another choice of how to live their lives…and it will open yet a whole new universe to explore. This may be very fortunate, because the Bugs have been making massive advances in their own molehole and weapons technology…and they’re aware of the accident, and may take advantage of it to attack again...


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter One

**

“Shut it down! Now! If you have to nuke it, do it!” The Tetrarch’s voice is in Command Mode, and even though it’s a recording, I instinctively tense, wanting to do something—anything—and not being able to. I frown, focusing on the vidscreen, and force myself to pay close attention. There’s chaos in the background; Servus scientists, humans, even Draka running around the facility, trying their best to control the mole hole they’ve opened. “What do you mean, you can’t shut it down? Gods be damned, do it! Do it now!” The video shakes, blurs, goes blank for a long moment. 

When it comes back on line, the control room is a shambles. Smoke and flames fill the screen, and I see bodies lying there in contorted positions… in the darkness, you can’t tell human from Draka from Servus. A small part of my mind makes a note of that for future consideration, but in the here-and-now, I stare in wonder—partly in horror—of what I see on the vidscreen.

There’s a huge mole hole gyrating, pulsing, just outside what used to be its containment walls. It’s changing shape almost organically, not bound by the oval controls we’ve built around them in the past. It’s not being powered by anything at the station; the Tetrarch was as good as her word, and nuked the facility when all control over the mole hole was lost. And the mole hole didn’t give a shit. It just kept pulsing, flexing, glowing…

“I’ll be damned!” I lean back in my chair and look at the others in the high security conference room. Gwen, Schalk, Tamarindus, Yolande, Patrick… it’s a small group right now, since Gwen doesn’t want to start a panic. But I think this might be a good time to run around and scream… “What the hell? How is it functioning? It doesn’t have any power!”

“It’s getting power from somewhere, Ma,” Patrick says grimly. “I don’t know where, or how, but somehow, it’s working.”

“Or maybe it doesn’t need power now.” Tamarindus looks over at me. “Maybe it’s… self-sustaining.”

“The damn thing looks alive,” I answer, shuddering.

“What are the casualty figures?” Gwen asks, quietly. All our eyes turn to her.

Schalk answers. “We have three survivors, who happened to be outside the perimeter of the blast zone. Two Servus, one human. All other personnel—57 all told—are dead.”

“Hellfire.” Gwen rubs her forehead. “Notify the families; just say for now it was an accident. Erin, you and Tamarindus need to get ready for a trip. We have to go look at this thing. Yolande, you feel like piloting?”

“Yes,” the tall blonde woman says quietly. “I’m ready whenever you are. I’ll have flight plans directly.”

“What do we tell the Samos?” Patrick asks.

“Nothing, right now.” Gwen looks over at him, considering. “If they ask, the same thing we tell the families of the fallen—it was an accident, we’re investigating. I don’t want a swarm of Samothracians to deal with on top of this… thing.” She gestures toward the vidscreen. “Is everyone clear on that? Until we know more, we don’t release information beyond what I’ve authorized here. Clear?”

We all nod. She’s Archon, and the tone of her voice doesn’t leave any wiggle room for debate. I stand up, straightening my dark blue uniform with a tug, and walk over to her as the meeting breaks up. “Gwen?”

“Yes?” She’s still in Command mode, terse, and tense.

“Gwen, what the hell will we do with this thing? It frightens me.” I look up into her leaf-green eyes. “I don’t mind going to look at it, but still…”

She grins, teeth bright in a deeply tanned face framed by mahogany red hair. Gwen stands up and hugs me close. I sigh, relaxing for a long delicious moment against her. “Ah, I have to remember, you’re just not a Draka like me. I’m really wanting to see this, myself, and see how we can use it. It’ll be alright, Erin. You’ll see.”

“You’re certainly programmed to enjoy conflict, aren’t you?” I murmur against her chest.

“In a way, yes, that’s one of the things the New Race was designed for… among others.” She kisses the top of my head, and then releases me. “You’re much more assertive than you used to be, certain sure, but still, not a Draka.”

“Nope, I’m still mostly human, last time I checked…” I smile back at her. “Although some people have disagreed.” I think back to things Jennifer and Alice have said, and my smile evaporates. Gwen notices, and runs a long finger down the left side of my face. 

“Sweetlin, no matter what you decide you are… you’re my woman.”

“Hate to break up the love fest,” Yolande says, from behind me. “But we have a flight to catch. It’ll take at least two days, and that’s at hyper speed.”

“Yes, yes, Yolande, I know. We know.” Gwen sighs, sounding a bit exasperated. “We’ll meet you on the flight deck in ten.” I start to turn around, to acknowledge Yolande, but Gwen holds my hands with hers, keeping me in place. I raise my eyebrows at her but she doesn’t respond, looking past me at her rejuvenated mother.  
“Ten minutes then.” The blonde Draka leaves. 

Schalk walks over. “There’s tension there you could cut with a layer knife, Gwen.”

“Sure enough.” Gwen smiles at her husband and then picks me up in a bear hug. The room’s emptied; it’s just the three of us now. “But you know what? I don’t care. She has to get used to me being in love with both a Draka and a human.” She plants a kiss on me that sends shivers to the soles of my feet. I wrap my arms around her and return it. Schalk comes closer, and hugs both of us, effectively sandwiching me between the two black-clad Draka. Their strength envelops me, and I feel Gwen’s lips on my neck… Schalk’s hands on my hips…


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

**

“I can’t believe we made it to the flight deck with only 30 seconds to spare, and you had the audacity to make some comment about ‘Are we all ready now?’ to Yolande!” I splutter into my mug of tea. “You’re bad!”

“Not terribly so. Just occasionally.” Gwen gives me a sly grin as she finishes her rations for the mid-morning meal. 

We’re almost to the platform, out past the Oort area, close to Titan. The last couple of days have been mostly a blur for me, since I’ve been reviewing and incorporating all the mole hole data Tamarindus has collected over the past years. My head feels over-full and there’s a dull headache behind my eyes. I know that’ll go away as I process the new information more extensively, but it’s still a bother. I sigh and toss my mug into the recycler.

“Headache?” Gwen looks a little concerned.

“Just bearable. Not awful.” I grin. “It’ll go away. It’s all the new information, wandering around inside this empty head, looking for a place to settle down.”

The Draka nods. “I understand the headache; had them many a time. And you’re silly.” She leans over, kisses me gently, and then floats to her seat near the front of the ship. She’s amazingly graceful in zero G, but then again she has decades of experience in it. I have very little, and make sure I use the handily-placed Velcro around the ship to move around. Otherwise, I tend to flail around like a beached whale, much to Gwen and Tamarindus’ amusement. It doesn’t seem to amuse Yolande, but then nothing much does. Oh, well.

**

I’ve actually managed to semi-doze off in my reclining acceleration couch, but the quiet voices still reach my brain, and some part of it keeps track for me. I first notice the soft lilt of Yannan, one of my Servus aides, talking with someone new, a voice I don’t know yet.

“I’m so glad you were allowed to join us at such short notice, Sara!” There’s a reply, quieter than Yannan’s well-modulated Primeline accent. “Yes, it was short notice! Did you actually manage to bring any of your things with you? I notice you’re still wearing your school uniform.”

“I did manage to bring my bag with me, but there’s only one change of clothes in it, Ser. It’s mostly books.”

My brain perks up at that—sounds like a smart young woman. I should pay attention. But my tiredness keeps my eyes shut and my breathing steady, regular. For all outward appearances, I’m asleep. A Draka would know—Gwen, especially, as sensitive as she is—but no one else could tell I was semi-awake. I continue eavesdropping in a drowsy sort of way.

“Well, we’ll definitely be busy, so you won’t have much time to feel homesick, if that’s any consolation,” Yannan says with a smile in his tone. 

The unknown young woman replies quickly, “Oh, no. I’m not homesick, Ser. Not at all. It’s not a problem. I’d like to be able to help as much as I can. Just remember, please, to speak slowly when you use Tawlk, since I’m still learning that language.”

“Of course! And I see where you’ve made excellent progress there, too. Your academic record is really outstanding. And did you know, you scored the highest on the selection exam—the highest we’ve recorded so far? That’s pretty impressive. I’m sure that’s why the Overlords selected you for this mission.” Yannan pats something, must be one of the chairs, my mind interpolates. “Please, come sit down, and I’ll get your diadem adjusted, and then you can start right in on data analysis. That’s what’s listed as your specialty on your personnel form; is that all right with you?”

“It better be. We don’t have time to baby sit anyone.” A harsher voice, but still with serf overtones to it. There are subtle differences in intonation and pronunciation between a serf using our version of English and an Overlord. This voice grates on my nerves and I open my eyes just a bit, looking through my lashes. 

Yannan’s standing stiffly by a couch, his hand resting on the head of the chair, a diadem in his palm. A young woman’s a few meters away from him, looking down at the deck, her dark brown hair hiding her face pretty effectively. She’s stiff, too. The grating voice speaks again, and I see that it belongs to an older woman, a serf, with Overseer tabs on the collar of her gray tunic. “It’s about time you got to work. The Overlords don’t like to waste time. You’ve been piddle-fucking around since we launched, and it’s imperative you get to work. Now.”

Yannan bows deeply. “Honored Overseer, we’ll get right to work…”

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t give a shit what you do. You’re a pet, nothing more. But this wench belongs to the State, and she better get her butt in gear, or I’ll see to it that she doesn’t feel like sitting on that butt for a week or so. Understood, wench?”

Well, now, there’s no need for such harshness. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, girlfriend, and you’re actually managing to piss me off, too. I yawn ostentatiously and then sit up. They all turn, and seeing my uniform, bow deeply. The Overseer gestures toward the wench. “Forgive us, Overlord. I hope we didn’t wake you. I was trying to get this lazy newcaught…”

“You were being obnoxious, is what you were.” I stand up, straightening my tunic with a tug; running a hand through my thick, blonde-gray hair, I walk over to where they are. “And I don’t appreciate obnoxious that wakes me up, Overseer. How ‘bout toning it down a few notches?”

The older woman starts to sneer at me but catches herself before the expression fully forms on her face. She crosses her arms, though, and just looks through me. “Of course, Overlord. Your wish is my command.”

Yeah, right, and I believe in Santa Claus, too. “Name?”

“Overseer 1st Class Sylvia d’Ingolfsson.” The sneer almost surfaces again. “Personal saafn of Archon Yolande Ingolfsson.”

Really? Well, aren’t we special. I’m not impressed. “Good. Why don’t you go do something for the Archon, then, and I’ll get these two serfs squared away?” My hands have placed themselves on my hips, I notice in a distant corner of my mind, and my feet are spread. A dominant position, an authoritative one. I’ve been getting more and more used to that since the augmentations.

“Getting these serfs squared away, as you say, Overlord, is my job. It’s what I’m trained to do. Your job is so much more… important. You can’t possibly bother yourself with such.” She stares me in the face, boldly. “I’ll make sure the serfs are doing what they’re supposed to be doing. Overlord.”

A growl forms itself in my throat, involuntarily, and all three of them step back from me. I swallow the noise as well as I can, and stare back into her brown eyes. “Overseer, you’re beginning to bore the living hell out of me. Go find someone else to pester. Now. And that’s not a suggestion.” My voice stays steady and level, but has an overtone of Command in it, just a hint, a flavor. I see Yannan trying to push himself into the bulkhead; the girl’s watching us through her brown bangs, still hanging down over her face for the most part.

The Overseer jumps at the growl and her eyes focus on the deck instinctively. “Your will, Overlord.” She backs away, her arms still crossed. “Your will…”  
“Is there a problem here?” Yolande says, quietly, from behind me. I don’t turn around. 

“No, no problem. We’re just getting to know each other, and figuring out roles. Not a problem at all, Yolande.” I keep staring at the Overseer, who has stopped backing away and is glaring openly at me. She must feel safer to do so, now that her personal owner is behind me.

“My Overseer is used to working with a minimum of supervision, Erin.” Yolande walks over to the woman and pats her on the shoulder. “She’s specially trained to do so. And she has my permission.”

“As her owner?” I coolly meet Yolande’s blue eyed stare.

“Yes.”

“Not as the captain of this vessel, though?” My question makes a thought almost visibly cross Yolande’s face, under her blonde, short hair. Her pale skin flushes a bit; she’s getting pissed off, and I think I’ve managed to out-maneuver her this time. “Yolande?”

“No, not as captain. I’m not invoking those rights. Yet.” She walks over to me, almost toe-to-toe. “Are you trying to annoy me, Citizen? Remember, as a Citizen, you can be Challenged.”

“I know that.” That was one of the big things that scared me at first, after the augmentations. But now that I have subcutaneous armor, like any other Draka, and my physical training is on-going, I might be able to out-thumb wrestle her. Not much more. “I know that Metic Citizens can’t be Death Challenged.”

“More’s the pity.” Her eyes look remorselessly into mine. “You could still be… hurt.”

“There’s no reason for this. You’ve a ship to captain, I have data to analyze, we have an errant mole hole running on its own. You take your serf, I’ll take mine, and we’ll get the new girl situated. Everything doesn’t have to be a struggle for power, Yolande.” I meet her eyes with my own green-eyed glare. “We all have work to do.”  
“There are many reasons for this. And one of these days, you and I will have time to work it out.” She smiles, coldly. “Believe me. That day is coming, soon.” She makes a spare hand gesture and the Overseer turns on her heel and walks away, down the corridor of the ship. Yolande keeps her eyes on mine, a gesture of arrogant hostility. “And the wench belongs to the State, so I’ll do with her as I will.”

She turns to the new girl. “Name?”

“Sara… uh, Overlord, Sara Venson.” The girl’s voice shakes a little. All humans have been indoctrinated with Draka Primeline history, and Yolande is, shall we say, well known? And well-feared by most. 

“Whatever. You serve the State. I think you’ll best serve the State now by cleaning the floors in the sleeping quarters.” Yolande’s voice is now ice cold. “I don’t care to see you here again. You’re disruptive.”

“Uh, Overlord…” Sara hesitates, her right hand clenching the handle of her carry-all bag. “I was sent to do data analysis…”

Yolande moves so fast I can’t stop her. Within milliseconds, she’s in front of the human woman, and then the woman is lifted off her feet by Yolande’s hand on the front of her dark gray tunic. The girl drops her bag by her side in shock, a dull thud on the deck. “You dare to be impertinent with me? Newcaughts are notoriously stupid, but really… that’s almost suicidal. Obviously, you need better training.” She slaps the girl’s face lightly with her free hand, the sound loud in the compartment.   
Yannan cringes. So do I, as I see the red mark surfacing on the young woman’s face. She doesn’t make a noise, just hangs there, suspended by Yolande’s strength. I clear my throat. 

“Yes?” Yolande smiles at me. “You’d like to say something?”

“I’d like you to put my brand-new property down, Citizen. I just bought her from the State. She’s mine. Mine to take care of, mine to discipline. Let her the hell go, Yolande.” I grin up at the tall, slim Draka, a fiery feeling rising through my chest. “She’s mine now.”

Yolande’s eyes look over my head for a moment, checking the serf’s status through her transducer. She frowns, then drops the girl on the deck unceremoniously. “Cute.”

“I know.” I smile, though without a trace of humor in my face. “I just thought of it. You know us, those pesky creative human types.”

“Fuck you.” The words force themselves past her lips almost by themselves, with venom that surprises me. I know she hates me; known that for a long time. I just didn’t realize how much.

“Never in your wildest wet dreams, darlin’,” I reply. “Sara, come with me. We’re through here. Yannan, take a break. It’s ok.” I take the girl by the arm and walk out of the compartment quickly. Yolande’s left standing there by herself, fists at her sides, a bright red flush lightening her face.

As we walk down the passageway, I can feel Sara shaking. I turn into the first open compartment I can find—the hydroponics bay—and pull her close to me in a gentle but firm hug. “It’s ok. You just got caught in a fire fight. Sorry about that. I think the term is collateral casualty. You OK?”

“Overlord…” She starts out bravely enough but then breaks into sobs. “I wasn’t… wasn’t… expecting…”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry,” I rock her gently in my arms, careful not to squeeze too hard. “The Draka are very… quick or even over-eager to fight about things. They’re genetically engineered to actively enjoy conflict, and I think it’s one of their weak points, actually. I’m really sorry I didn’t think of buying you before she hit you. I might be creative but I need to think a lot faster.” And I won the skirmish but the war continues, part of my mind reminds me.

“No, no… thank you,” Sara manages to stifle her sobs. “I think. This is all so new, I don’t know… it’s all so strange.”

“Here, put your bag down and let’s sit for a few minutes, get our heads together.” I walk over to a table with trays of new plants on it in zero-G containers, ready to be “planted” soon. “Just sit here and rest a spell. It’s cool.”

Sara nods and sits down, her carryall near her feet. “Thank you. Should I call you Overlord, or Muhmis?”

“Muhmis is ok… Muhmis Erin, if you feel wild and crazy.” I grin. “I’m not a huge stickler for protocol. You’ll find that out, talking with Yannan and Rosa. They’re the only two serfs I personally own, besides you, now.”

“Oh!” She tosses her dark brown hair back, looking up into my eyes. Both of us have hazel green eyes, I notice. “Muhmis Erin…”

“Yes?” I sigh and stretch… I’d gotten all combat-tense with Yolande and I desperately want to run several miles, or work out, or… I blush a bit.

She notices but continues her question. “Muhmis, why’d you do it? And why don’t you get along with the other Overlord?”

“Ah, that’s a long story. You’ve seen the history videos from Primeline, right? And you know who she is?” The young woman nods, her face serious, and I continue. “Well, I’m a Metic Citizen, but still nominally a human—and I also happen to be lovers with her daughter. She doesn’t think it’s proper that a Draka—a homo drakensis—is in love with a human—homo sapiens. She really dislikes me for that, and just that I’m human, too. So that’s the short version.”

“But why did you buy me?” Sara looks at me nervously. “Was it just to piss her off? Am I allowed to say that?”

“Yeah, between you, me and these plant thingies here…” I laugh and tousle her hair gently. “Why? Not just to piss her off, although I have to admit, that was fun in a way. No, I bought you to protect you from her and Draka like her. Even though they’re nominally under Gwen’s command, there are some Draka who just don’t like humans, don’t trust them, never will. And I’d rather humans not come into close contact with those Draka.”

“I thought she was going to snap my neck…” the girl sighs, looking down at her hands. They’re still shaking, a little. “They told us in school that the Overlords can do that—they can do anything they please, since they… you’re… um… in charge now. We all serve the State.”

“Glory to the Race.” I say it quietly but firmly. “And I’ll protect you, guide you, train you… I’m not a bad owner. It took a heck of a lot of thinking to be ok with the idea of actually physically owning another sentient being, but Yannan and Rosa have helped me understand their culture a lot. So I think you and I can work things out, can’t we?”

She nods. Then she shyly places her left hand in my right hand. “I hope so. I thought you were beautiful, over there in that chair, asleep.”

I feel a familiar blush creeping up my throat to my cheeks. “You did?”

“Yes, Muhmis.” She nods again, and squeezes my hand. “And I know, belonging to you, that you can… have me.”

Part of me wants to shuck her out of her clothes, toss her on the deck and make her squeal. Part of me is saying, “Whoa, Nellie!” and wanting to take a cold shower. And I’m just left feeling horny and confused, reminiscent of adolescence. Not a fun feeling. “I can. Yes.”

Sara looks up at me again, her hazel eyes worried. “But you don’t want to? In school, they told us we’d serve Overlords that way if they wanted… and then we had sex ed classes, to show us what goes where. Am I not attractive enough, Muhmis? I know I’m sort of plain.”

“No! No, that’s not it.” I shake my head no. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I guess I don’t.”

“Ok, listen. Yes, I do want you, want to take you. More than you can imagine. But I think we’d be better off waiting a bit, until we’re both more accustomed to each other, more comfortable around each other. After all, I didn’t buy you for the trip to the mole hole only—I bought you for the entire time you live. So we have plenty of time, God willin’ and the crick don’t rise.”

“Um, ok.” She doesn’t look convinced.

“Seriously, Sara. I mean it.” I squeeze her hand back, and then kiss her gently on the lips. “I do want you; you’re not plain. I like how you look, a lot. But I’m just not comfortable tossing you immediately into the sack. Believe me, I will, soon enough. The augmentations that made me a Metic Citizen also brought along a lot of added benefits, like a ramped up sex drive you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh.” She blushes now. I kiss her again. I better quit doing this or I will have her down on the deck, buck naked. I swallow hard and stand up, releasing her hand gently. 

“Yeah, oh.” I grin. “Come on, I’ll show you to your new fancy-dancy quarters, and get you a new tunic, one with my colors on it. And we have to update your records—oh, that’s already been done. I’ll have to thank Yannan for pushing that through so quickly. The Domination runs on virtual paperwork. We have to run ahead of the wave, or it’ll crush us…” I laugh, thinking I’ll need to share that image with Gwen later, since I know she’ll appreciate it, being Archon.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

**

“Having words with my mother, wench?” Gwen strokes a long finger down my spine as I work out in the gymnasium, and I lose count of my reps immediately. Her voice is soft and smooth, but serious. I step away from the machine that’s been stretching my arms out like spaghetti and turn to face my lover.

“One or two, not too many.”

“One of these days, she’ll call you out for insolence to an Elder. You know that. And there won’t be gods-damned thing I can do about it. Why do you provoke her?” Gwen sighs, sitting down on a weight bench. We’re far enough away from everyone else that we can talk fairly openly.

I towel the sweat off my face and neck. “I didn’t. She and her damn Overseer were being dickheads.”

“Erin!” One eyebrow is raised now.

“Well, you asked. I answered. And I’m tired of being polite about it. She got torked because I bought the wench out from under her punishment. And I’m glad I did. Have you seen that girl’s test scores? She blew the top off the one test, the aptitude one. And her IQ is amazing.”

“And she’s cute, on top of that.” My lover smiles at me. “I’m sure that went into your calculations.”

“A bit.” I smile back, then lean in and kiss Gwen on the lips, hard. “You’ll probably end up enjoying my good taste in wenches. You have before.”

“A few times, yes. You do have very good taste. But back to Yolande. We have to get along right now, darling. This is too damn important a mission.”

“And saving you from Primeline wasn’t?” I meet her eyes, levelly. “Yolande and I managed to work together then. But since then, she’s been… harsher.”

“You’ve been more assertive, too.” Gwen stands up, her walking blacks shimmering in the lights overhead. “You’re growing into being a Citizen of the Domination of the Draka.”

“Much to her dismay.” I toss the towel into a recycler and hold out my hand to Gwen. “Hopefully not to yours.”

“Hmm…” Her leaf-green eyes look me over. “No, not at all. What do you have in mind? We have several hours off, before we reach the site…”

“How about dinner and a date, lady?” I tug at her hand. “Let’s order some steaks…”

**

Well, let me be the first to break the news to you: steaks from a food prep machine on a Draka starship aren’t so hot. In fact, they’re pretty bad. But we persevered, and enjoyed the rest of the hours we had together. Gwen was still grumbling about the steaks when an alert came through on our transducers—we were entering the landing pattern for the base where the rogue mole hole has developed. She sighs deeply, rolls over and kisses me hard. “No rest for the wicked…”

“Well, at least you got the ‘Relax’ part of ‘Rest and Relaxation’, honey.” I sit up and grin at her. She rolls her eyes and returns the grin as she stands up. My eyes rove over her beautiful lithe body; my pulse speeds up but I repress the feelings, following her to the shower area. It’s not really a full bath; we’re tight on space for personnel, so her quarters are smaller than usual for an Archon. The shower area, though, is large enough for both of us to fit in; taking a hot shower with a hot woman is one of my favorite hobbies.

We enter the bridge together; Yolande, in her high captain’s chair, doesn’t spare us a glance. We take our seats and strap in, just in case it gets rough. The crew is professional—focused on the task at hand. As we approach the landing site, I look over the remnants of the base. The small nuke the Tetrarch set off did a very impressive job; I send a query to the science officer with my transducer—handy things, those, although it weirded me out pretty bad at first, when Gwen had one implanted in my skull—and he replies that the radiation levels are high, but acceptable if we wear our protective uniforms. Thanking him, I realize we’re about to land, and tighten my grip on my chair.

The bridge is silent even after we land. The techs are in their couches, diadems on the humans, the servus using their transducers, the Draka doing the same. A few look up from their thousand-yard-stare and glance at the vidscreens, noticing we’ve landed at the site, but then go back to their duties quickly. Yolande stands up, stretches. “We’re here. Prepare the landing party; landing party will be away in 10 minutes. Protective uniforms for all.”

There’s a rustle of movement as crewmembers get up to help prepare for the landing party. I head out towards the airlock. Gwen lingers behind, but I don’t give it a second thought. I’m focused on getting to the site and trying to figure out how in the world the mole hole is still operating, with no external power source we can see. My suit shimmers slightly as it changes from regular walking blacks to a more protective shell, moving like a liquid over my body. As it covers my head and face, part of my mind cringes a bit—it always does—it seems very unnatural to be breathing when it looks and feels a bit like you’re underwater. But I shrug it off—odd world, this—and focus on the task at hand.

As the landing party gathers, I notice Yannan is there, with Sara in tow. She’s bravely hanging in there with all the newness of it; her eyes are wide but clear, not frightened. My servus keeps close to her, guiding her and keeping her a comfortable distance from Draka. The Draka notice and some of them nod at me, acknowledging Sara as my own; they adjust their pheromones appropriately so they won’t spook her too much. I grin back at them, and send a mental thank you over my transducer.

“Ready?” Gwen is at my side, her suit glimmering like mine in the bright lights.

“As ready as I can be… I just want to see how the damn thing is working still…” I frown, noticing that her eyes are wide, pupils dilated… hair’s standing up, ears flattened against her skull. She’s feeling aggressive, too, which is unusual since she’s an expert at controlling what she shows. I raise an eyebrow, and she sighs.   
“Later.” Gwen looks around, counting heads manually even though her transducer has done the same electronically—old habits die hard—and clears her throat. “All right, landing party. We’ve landed quite close to the site; don’t be slow on crossing the terrain, since the radiation levels are still high, even for us Draka. Stick together, follow the drill. If you notice anything really anomalous, immediately notify your team leader. We’ll meet together in the remains of the control room. Don’t anyone go near the mole hole, until we know more.”

We exit the protective home of our ship, onto a crispy, burned landscape. No sign of life, even though the large asteroid had been terraformed carefully. Everywhere, the signs of a recent nuclear conflagration makes my skin crawl. Sara and Yannan come closer to me—we’re on the science team—and I see fear in both their faces now. It’s extremely rare that Draka call down sunfire onto themselves, but when they do, they do a damn good job of destroying everything around them.

“Come on, let’s not linger. Not much to look at, anyway.” I nod my head toward the few walls remaining of the control center. “We might find more there. We need to get over there and start doing some measurements. Have to find out how that damn thing is working still.” I point at the pulsing blue oval, which appears to be suspended about 5 meters off the surface of the center. “God, that’s weird.”

“Muhmis, are we ok with the radiation?” Sara sounds worried. 

As we walk toward the ruins of the center, I answer her. “Yes, as long as you don’t run around naked here, or decide to eat a bunch of dirt.”

“Oh.” She hangs her head down, casting a shadow over her face.

Maybe I’m a little on edge… “Hey, didn’t mean to sound bitchy. I’m serious, though, we’re ok as long as we don’t inhale or ingest a lot of stuff here. And your body armor will let you know if the radiation levels get to a dangerous point for you. If that alarm happens, just head back to the ship immediately. Let me know, let Yannan know… but head back towards the ship. OK?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, still looking down. She stops in her tracks suddenly, frozen, looking down. Yannan bumps into her, since he’s looking at the control room, or what’s left of it, and the pulsing electric blue mole hole above it. Their collision alerts me—I’ve been walking, doing the same thing Yannan was… I turn around to see them frozen in place. Yannan backs away slowly. “Muhmis!”

“What? What is it?” I run over to them, and he holds out a hand to stop me before I step any closer.

“Muhmis, look down.” His voice quakes.

I look down at my boots, and notice a rib cage is next to me. It looks like a side of ribs that’s been left in the cooker way too long. I look further toward the two serfs, and see several rib cages, femurs and skulls. Most of them are the larger versions of human bones—they must be Draka remains. The bones are black, with very little flesh remaining on them. 

I’m very glad the suit I’m wearing is fully filtered; but then I begin worrying about what happens if you barf while wearing a Draka uniform. Forcing my stomach to stop heaving, I walk carefully around the bones, and take Yannan’s hand. “Take her hand, Yannan, and walk this way.” I keep my voice modulated to a very calm tone, almost bored. He picks up on that, too.

“Yes, Muhmis.” He takes the young human girl’s hand and they follow me around the pile of remains. I wonder who they are, part of my mind thinks. Did I know them? Did Gwen? I’m sure we’ll find out who they are, from analysis of the DNA left in their scorched bones, but still… I shudder a little but make myself stay focused on getting to the mole hole. 

I send a quick message to Gwen, though, and electronically mark the spot where the bodies are with my transducer. Gwen replies tersely and asks me to hurry up and get to the mole hole. I relay that to my team members and we all walk more quickly, if more carefully, toward the mole hole.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

**

“So, anything useful? Obvious answers?” Gwen leans over a charred desk and looks into my eyes. Her face is slightly blurred by the protective armor we’re all wearing; I know I must look the same to her. I shake my head no.

“Nothing so far. The thing… the mole hole… is running on its own. No source of external power that we can find. The mole hole is large, almost as large as any we can make by ourselves. It’s stable. There are some fluctuations, but not many.” I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”

“Ah, well. We can’t stay out here too long. Start wrapping things up. We can come back soon.”

“The radiation? I thought it was within toleration limits with our suits.”

“No, not just the radiation, although it’s high enough you wouldn’t want to stay here for hours at a time, even with the suits. I know we’re under surveillance and don’t want to make anyone more suspicious than they are already.” Gwen looks back toward the pulsing mole hole. “They’ll register that, soon enough. I want enough time for your scientists to have a good head start on figuring out how to use this before they come here and start their own investigations.”

“The Samothracians?”

“Yes, darlin’. This is not only weird, it’s politically a hot potato, as you’d say. Come on, let’s go back to the ship. Get some rest, have your team start analyzing their little hearts out. We have to figure out some basic things with this… anomaly. Soon.” She straightens up, holds out a hand to me. “Come on.”

We walk together back to the waiting Draka warship, our teams close behind. No one talks much; the devastation around us stifles conversation. I’d seen videos of what New New York looked like after the Final War, but this is my first time seeing what nuclear warheads can do close up. My stomach churns as I think about all the staff here, and how they died. I hope it was faster than hell for all of them. The alternative is horrifying. 

But still… the Tetrarch, ordering the detonation, knowing in her heart of hearts what was going to happen to her, her friends, her serfs, the settlement… I don’t know if I could give that order. I stuff that away mentally and enter the ship with the others.

After we change suits in the airlock—the contaminated uniforms shrinking off us and sliding like liquid mercury to a central collection point, where a small robot obediently shuffles the material into a recycler—waste not, want not—and then hops into the recycler itself—oh, dear, it was a cute little thing—we go to our respective areas to begin processing the data we captured during the outing. I’m hungry, too, so stop at a food dispenser and order a quick meal.

“What is this?” Gwen surprises me as she leans over a shoulder. “Cheese and some sort of pasta?”

“Mac and cheese, darlin’. A staple of my younger days, very much a comfort food. Try some. The dispenser has gotten it almost right this time…” I feed Gwen a forkful of the golden, cheesy, hot macaroni. She tastes it, raises an eyebrow, and then orders some herself.

“Not bad. Not terribly good, but not bad at all. Thank you,” she says, holding the bowl in her hands, fork busy. “I was hungry, but so caught up in being at the facility I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Yeah, me too.” I smile at her, toss my now-empty bowl into the recycler, along with the fork. “Why were you tardy, earlier?”

“Tardy?”

“Don’t play coy with me, missy. I’ve known you too damn long.” I smile but my tone is serious. I have an inkling what made Gwen a little late to the team briefing earlier, but I want to hear it from her.

“Saucy minx!” Gwen kisses me. 

I shake my head, after returning the kiss. “No, you can’t change the subject like that either; I know that tactic too. You use it very well. So tell.”

“And if I don’t?” Gwen’s smile runs away. “I’d rather talk about it later, if at all.”

“I’d like to know now. There’s enough tension between me and Yolande to cut with a knife…”

“Speaking of knives, do you have your layer knife with you on this trip? Or did you leave it in your room, like you usually do?” Gwen leans back, hands on her hips. I notice her layer knife is in its sheath at one hip, ready for use if needed.

“Good lord, no. I left that thing at home. I didn’t think I’d need it here…” The frustration is now clear in my voice. “How do we resolve this, besides fighting? I know that’s the first thing Draka think of, so think of it and then move on.”

“I wish you’d listen to me more often. You’re a Citizen now…”

“A Metic!”

“Even so. You’re still open to Challenges. And that’s serious. You need to be armed a little, at least. I know you’re frustrated; so am I. I’m trying to keep you safe, and you think it’s funny.” Her voice has hardened too, but both of us keep our voices down—in a spaceship, it’s easy to annoy your fellow workers.

“I can’t be Death Challenged, Gwen. You know that.”

“Yes, I do. I wrote the law! But I can’t afford to have you in a rejuvenation tank for weeks right now, especially with this… thing. Besides the personal component. Please, listen,” Gwen says intensely, pulling me close to her. “Please listen. This is serious stuff, Erin. My love. I can’t be everywhere you are, to protect you all the time. Neither can Schalk nor Tamarindus, although we’ve all been trying our best. You’re in danger, and you need to take this seriously. You also need to back off the attitude you’ve been projecting to Yolande. And others.”

“Me!?” I stiffen in her arms. “Oh, I need to back off? How about Ice Maiden Yolande? I guess the Hero of the Tunnels is never wrong?” You know, sometimes you say something and it comes out at the precisely worst moment it possibly could. This is one of those moments, the thought crosses my mind, as I see, over Gwen’s shoulder, the cold, impassive face of her mother.

“The Hero of the Tunnels would like to order some food.” She stands there, arms crossed. The only thing that indicates her state of mind—fury—is the red blush creeping up her neck to her jaw line.

“Ma!” Gwen sputters. Neither of us had heard her coming up on us, which means she meant to be sneaky. It’s very hard to sneak up on a Draka, or an augmented human, but it can be done. “Didn’t know you were there.”

We turn so we’re both facing her. She smiles, coldly. “I know. And I appreciate the, shall we say, candor of your little friend.”

“My life partner, Yolande. She and Schalk are my life partners.” Gwen sounds a bit nervous, but then again, you always have unusual dynamics between children and parents, even when you’re Draka. I take one of Gwen’s hands in mine and squeeze it gently.

Yolande moves past us, picking up her bowl of noodles from the dispenser. “If you believe so…”

“Damn it, Ma. She is, and always will be. This isn’t the appropriate time or place to discuss this, either.” Gwen takes her hand from mine, placing her two hands on her hips. Her hair has begun to bristle a bit, ears back…

“Gwen’s right. Save this for later. And I’ll save my attitude for later, ok?” I look at Gwen, then Yolande.

“I think it’s a perfectly good time to discuss things,” the woman says, icily. “We won’t be lifting off for several hours, I have some free time and so do you two. And instead of humping your human wench, Gwen, perhaps you could think more about the destiny and the purpose of the Race. You could at least try…”  
“Ma…” A low growl emanates from my lover.

Shit. She’s trying to provoke Gwen, over me. She can Death Challenge Gwen, and probably would, even though it’s her daughter. That’s how much she hates me. OK. I walk up to Yolande, start to raise my hand, open palmed… Gwen grabs it, Yolande steps back, putting the bowl down, and then I commit social hara-kiri. I spit on Yolande’s face. “Take that, you damn Snake!”

The world seems to slow down, and get very silent. I see the shock and then the terrific anger cross Yolande’s face in shades of pale and red; I feel Gwen pulling me back, turning me to face her. Her hand slaps my face, instinctively, and I don’t strike back, again, following instinct. I do, however, catch her hand as it swings back for another slap. “Hold on. Gwen, she was trying—and succeeding—in provoking you. She can Death Challenge you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that. You don’t strike a Draka, not in my presence, wench…”

“I’m not your serf anymore.” I look into her eyes, watch as the pupils change from combat mode to a slightly less insane glare. “I’m a Citizen. Metic, but still a Citizen. And I’ve insulted another Citizen, who may call Challenge if she so wishes.” I pull away from Gwen, turn to face Yolande. “Do you?”

She wipes her face slowly with a towel she’s requested from the dispenser. “I wish. I only wish you were a full Citizen, actually.”

“Then you could try to kill me, right?”

“Try? Try? No. I wouldn’t try; I simply would. You’ve been a thorn in the side of many Citizens, otherwise completely loyal ones, for too long. But I can teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” She drops the towel on the floor. “I Challenge you, bodily harm, any weapon, or none at all. Now.”

I get to choose the place. I know the protocol, I’ve studied. “Let’s go to the gym then. And I choose bare hands.”

“Good. I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for quite some time.” She grins, a mere tooth-baring exercise, nothing to do with humor. “The gym it is.”

“Wait, there’s no need for this…” Gwen starts, but Yolande cuts her off.

“No need? I was just insulted physically by this Metic Citizen, who has accepted my Challenge. There’s no way around that, Gwen. So stay out of this.” She turns on her heel and walks down the passageway, toward the exercise area. People who happen to be in her path scatter like buckshot.

“Erin!” Gwen takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face her. “What in all the seven hells do you think you’re doing? I just told you, I don’t need you in a rejuve tank for months! What are you doing?”

I smile up at her grim face. “I’m standing up for myself, and for us. Don’t worry about me. Even if I have to have rejuvenation, I’ll be ok. I won’t be pushed around like that anymore, Gwen. And people—everyone—has to realize we actually are a couple, or a threesome, including Schalk—and that’s ok. I know it may weird some folks out, but the idea of a human and a Draka loving each other has to be acceptable. Now.”

“You’re foolish.” She still looks grim.

“Maybe. But I’m your fool. Not your serf, mind you, but your lover and your fool.” I kiss her softly. “Always.”

She picks me up in a bear hug, kissing me back, hard. “And I’m yours, always. Foolish girl.” As she puts me back on the deck, she whispers, “And remember, Yolande is left-handed, always has been. She leads, too… watch her left foot. Where the toes point…”

“Thanks,” I whisper back. “I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t worry, darlin’.”


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

**

Quite a little crowd has gathered in the exercise area by the time I get there. Most are regular Draka, but there are quite a few Metic Citizens as well, milling around, trying to look like they’re there to have a fun workout, not witness a duel between a Draka and a Metic. Those are very rare, for obvious reasons, but this one… this one has more riding on it than usual. I sigh, and take off my boots after sitting down on a bench near the tatami mats. 

Yolande’s already there, bare feet and hands; she’s stripped down to her shorts and bra, too. Milk-white skin, muscles rippling beneath like steel cables. Her blonde hair, platinum blonde, hangs down over her face in a bang; it’s short behind—no grip there, for certain-sure, part of my mind notes, already looking for any advantage in the upcoming combat—and her icy blue eyes stare holes in me. She paces, slowly, waiting.

I strip down too—no need for the walking black uniform here—and walk onto the mats. They’re springy beneath my bare feet, not a lot but just enough. I’ve spent time here and other workout areas, almost religiously, since becoming a Metic. Gwen’s worked out with me, Tamarindus, Schalk… not just to build muscles, either; they’ve taught me a lot about hand-to-hand combat, to the point of drawing blood on occasion. At first, I remember, it was all my blood—the occasional bloody nose, a few puffed eyes, a bloody lip—but over time, as I learned and built my strength, endurance and reflexes up, every once in a while I’d get a lick in on one of them, much to their surprise at first. They got used to it as time went on, and treated me pretty much like they’d treat any other young, slightly inept Draka working out with them. But the initial “hands on” sessions weren’t much fun, I’ll say that much.

I quickly pull up my just-below-shoulder-length ash blonde hair into a pony tail, using a wrist band I’d been wearing for good luck. “Shall we begin?” I meet Yolande’s level stare with one of my own.

“First blood? Or first disabling injury?” Her voice is quiet, calm. Too calm.

“Whatever you prefer.”

“I called Challenge, Metic. So that means you get to choose the amount of damage you’re willing for me to inflict upon you.” She stands there, hands on her hips, looking down at me. She’s got at least three or four inches on me—4.25 inches, my transducer helpfully notes, in a tiny whisper in my head—and a hell of a lot more experience.

“First disabling injury, then, Citizen. And please don’t be surprised if it’s not me the injury’s inflicted upon…” I crouch into a defensive fighting stance, feet spread wide, toes gripping the mat beneath them. I school myself—breathing higher than normal, but not too fast; pheromones adjusted; the combat surge of adrenaline is familiar enough now not to throw me for a loop. I feel the rush as blood begins pumping harder through my body; my ears feel hot. If only I didn’t have a knot in my stomach…

“As you wish.” As the last word exits her mouth, she moves. Blurringly fast, she rushes towards me. Her left hand reaches out to strike me in the solar plexus and I draw back ever so slightly. Her fingertips just touch me, rocking me backwards a bit, and I use my legs to tangle hers. The two of us fall to the floor and her right leg kicks me hard in the left thigh. Numbness begins to creep through my leg but within seconds, we’re both back on our feet again, slightly crouching, circling each other, looking for a weak spot. I remember Gwen’s advice and watch Yolande’s feet.

“You know what this is all about, don’t you?” I whisper.

She arches an eyebrow and then stands upright. The next millisecond, she’s launched a kick to the side of my head, which I block—painfully—with an arm, just in time. She really does lead with that left foot; I knew which way she was coming before the kick left the mat. She’ll have to work on that. “Really? Besides your complete and utter disregard for Draka social rules? Your impertinence? Your being nothing but a ramped-up human play toy?”

I smile, as I pivot and try to kick her left knee into next week. I make contact, but it’s like hitting a concrete barrier and my foot tingles all the way up to my hip. She staggers back a step, eyes widening a bit. “Oh, I know you think all those kind things about me, I do…”

She leaps up into the air, legs scissoring, and then twists mid-air to launch another kick towards my head. I take this blow on the shoulder, wincing, falling backwards. Suddenly, she’s on top of me, her weight pressing me into the tatami mat. Her legs wrap around my rib cage, squeezing, and her hands come down like sledgehammers, aiming for my collarbones. I block them but know I have only seconds to get out of this, since she’s grinding the air out of my lungs. She smiles down at me but her eyes are still deadly cold. “Yes, I think so many things of you…”

“The main thing… ugh… you think about when you’re… ah… thinking of me…”I finally manage to get my feet under me, and with a huge, back-popping surge of energy, thrust upward and to one side, knocking her off me. I quickly skitter to one side, as she tries to slam me back onto the mat again with her arms. “What you truly think of me is simple. You’re jealous.”

Her fist catches me in the mouth on that one, and I scrabble backwards even faster, with her right there, more punches landing than I can possibly block successfully. I spit blood out, not wanting to choke on it, and her smile widens. Another fist catches me on the side of the head and the whole room begins to spin. All of a sudden I feel very tired. Maybe I should just lay down here and take a little nap…

In my head, a memory surfaces. It’s Navy boot camp, and I’m in the pugil stick pit. Another recruit has just punched my helmet with her stick, and the bells are ringing. I drop to one knee after staggering back, holding myself up with my padded pugil stick. Barf rises to my mouth and I almost raise my hands, indicating I’m done. Instead, one of the company commanders is at my side, whispering. “Do you think you’ll get another chance if you ever have to fight for real, slime bucket? Get the hell up and hit that bitch. Hit her for everything you’re worth. Now!!” And somewhere, somehow, I find the strength to swallow the puke, get up on my feet, and hammer the other girl into the sawdust.

I find that strength again. I do a backward roll and then scramble to my feet as Yolande lands where I had just been; she’s on all fours, having expected to pin me there and continue her demolition. I haul back and kick as hard as I can into her middle, lifting her off the floor with the impact. She doubles over, the air gusting out of her, but rolls away, still trying to get to her feet. I follow her, and now I’m seeing red. Literally… it’s like looking through a red filter. 

The blonde woman’s still on all fours, trying to get up, slowly, since all her abdominal muscles are cramping from my kick. Instead of kicking her gut again, I change my stance, and stamp down on her left kidney area. She thuds into the mat, growling now, and gasping. I look down at her. “Jealous! You’re just fucking jealous. Admit it, bitch!”

I stamp again, her right kidney, and a short scream breaks from her lips. She braces herself and starts to get up, and I get on top of her, riding her down to the mat again. My legs are around her this time, squeezing her ribs just like she’d done me; my arms go around her neck, and begin slowly choking her. She reaches behind with her arms, and tries to throw me off, but I’m gripping too tightly for her to budge me. “Jealous. That’s all you are. Jealous that your daughter loves me. A human.” I choke a little harder, and she tries to buck me off.

Her snarl’s wavering; sweat runs off us like we’re in a shower. “Admit it, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you…” Yolande hisses. “I’ll kill you, I swear it!” She bucks wildly, and I try to hang on. It’s hard, since we’re both so sweaty. I realize that if I lose my grip, and she manages to get up, she’s going to try to do what she said. She’s that furious. I tighten my arms around her throat, and lean my head next to hers.

“Yolande, you’ve always been jealous… uff!...of anyone close to Gwen. And especially me.” I keep my voice low, but steady as I can with her trying to toss us hither and thither. “But you have to get over it. I love her, and always will. Ugh!”

“Kill you!!” She stands up, every muscle in her lithe Draka body straining, with me clinging desperately to her back and neck. “Kill you!!”

I tighten even more, knowing that I’m getting into a danger zone with the amount of pressure I’m applying to her neck. Even a Draka’s neck can be broken, with the right amount of pressure. My legs are aching, the muscles quivering with the strain of squeezing the living hell out of her ribs. I feel a pop and then another, and realize her ribs are breaking, one by one. I keep squeezing. She can tap out any time she wants…

With a sudden finality, she drops to the mat, unconscious. I immediately let go, roll off her and out of her reach. My whole body’s shaking, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Her breathing’s ragged but visible, as her ribcage moves; I can hear her pulse with my enhanced hearing. Her body’s already trying to repair itself, as is mine, and I stand up, wiping sweat from my face, and blood. Gwen walks over, past me, to her mother, turning her on her side. “Yolande?”

Yolande’s eyes flutter open, and for an instant—a mere flicker of time—she tenses, ready to attack, until she sees who’s leaning over her. “Gwen… I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”  
Gwen smiles. “The Challenge is complete. I rule it so. When you’re ready, stand up and shake hands with Erin.” She reaches down and tenderly strokes her mother’s blonde hair out of her face. “It’s done.”

“Like hell it is.” Yolande sits up, then surges to her feet. “I was only down, not out. I haven’t conceded.”

Oh, great. Like any other Draka, you have to whack them up side the head to get their attention. OK. So be it. As Gwen turns to face me, I’m in motion already, flying past her, hitting Yolande with a full body tackle. I slam her to the mat, and then head butt her as hard as I can. She gasps and then tries to put her hands around my neck. I slap her hard across the face, and knock her hands away. “Don’t make me knock you out again. I’ve won, even by your Draka standards. I brought you down, and I can do it as many times as I need to. This is over.”

“Get off her.” Gwen’s voice is in Command Mode, and almost without thinking, I obey. I’m on my feet and away from the prone Draka in an instant. “Yolande, stop.” At Gwen’s command, the blonde woman freezes, half-way into a fighting stance. “Both of you, the combat is over. Erin’s the victor. Enough, I say.”

Her arm rests on Yolande’s shoulder, holding her back, though without visible strain on Gwen’s part. Gwen’s gifted with the most up to date combat mods that Draka genetic science has to offer, and she’s stronger than either one of us. I stand back, waiting. Yolande quivers under the arm of her daughter, and under the arm of a Planetary Archon… and the Archon wins. Yolande steps back, moving slowly. “Fine. I won’t argue with you, Archon. Erin won.”

There’s a gasp from the crowd. I don’t think anyone was expecting that outcome; frankly, I wasn’t so sure, myself. I figured I’d hold my own for a while but then she’d most likely kick my butt into next week. If I hadn’t gotten those few good kicks in, and gotten my temper up like I did… I walk a few steps forward, put my right hand out. “Service to the State, Citizen.”

Yolande looks at me for a long, long moment before extending her arm and grasping my forearm, in a grip I know will leave a bruise. “Glory to the Race, Citizen. Pax.”  
“Pax.” We stand there, staring at each other. Now what? A moment of madness comes to me, or inspiration, or something. “Yolande, come with me. We need a shower, and how.” I tug at her arm, and her eyes widen. She starts to say no; I see the word form on her lips, and I lean in, kissing her hard. “And I do mean now. You and me. And some private time.”

The crowd gasps again… and even Gwen raises an eyebrow. Yolande’s blue eyes look into mine and I see a glitter of respect—a very small glitter, but anything’s better than what was there. The Draka nods, puts an arm around my shoulders, and we walk out of the recreation area towards the crew showers. The crowd parts before us silently. It seems like a very long walk to those showers, too.

Finally. I walk just ahead of Yolande, breaking free from her grip, and strip off my bra and briefs. The showers come on automatically, jets hitting us from several angles. She strips off too and for long moments, we stand there, just letting the hot water massage our aching bodies. Already, the internal biomechanics are kicking in, repairing our bodies as the streaming hot streams wash over us. The healing makes me feel itchy. I sigh, and wash my hair; then hand her the small bottle of shampoo… she looks at me, smiles very slightly and then washes her own hair, quickly. I turn around, letting the water pummel my upper chest and arms, and sigh again. Well, now what, genius, part of my mind whispers to me. Suddenly, I feel her arms around me, and I stiffen.

“Wait, wait.” She leans her head against one of my shoulders. “I’m not going to fight you here. Wait, Erin.” I quit struggling and Yolande sighs. Her arms are around me, our bodies together and despite feeling rather odd about it (she is my lover’s mother, and old Earth social training dies hard, if ever…), it’s kind of erotic. I feel her chuckle against my back, and realize she’s heard my subvocalization. I blush.

“Um, sorry. Old habits die hard…” I manage.

“No, no problem.” She chuckles again. “I was just thinking, what a nice body you have. No wonder Gwen enjoys you so much.”

“Um, yeah.” I think the eroticism just ran out of the shower room for me. I’d like to follow it. What the hell was I thinking?

“Erin, we have to work this out. It’s impacting our ability to deal with threats to the Race.” Her voice is more business-like and for that, I’m glad. I nod. “It’s hard for me to say this…” She pauses for a very long time. “I’m sorry. You’re right. No, please, for all the god’s sakes, don’t interrupt me now. Let me finish.” Yolande clears her throat and goes on. “I’m jealous of you and Gwen, of Gwen and anyone. She’s so much like Myfwany, and so different—so much more. And she’s all I have of Myfwany…”

We stand there in the shower, with the hot water running down our bodies, but I can tell she’s crying. I stand there, silent and respectful, her holding me tightly. I understand loss. Been there, done that. I feel tears rising to my eyes, and turn in her arms so we’re facing each other. I wrap my arms around her neck and put my face in the comfortable spot between her neck and her shoulder.

She stiffens a little bit as I turn around but then relaxes as she discovers I’m crying too. Yolande hugs me tighter and I feel the sobs rack her body as she finally lets something out she’s been keeping inside for a long time. After a while, her sobs slow and she begins talking quietly again. “It’s been so hard. They resurrected me, and I’m not human any more. I had to get to know my daughter all over again, and she’s so different from what I remember… before. And humans… it’s been so damned hard to trust humans, after everything that happened. Gods, you don’t know. It’s been hell. And now you… you’re her lover, and it’s…”

“Yolande, it’s ok.” I stroke her hair softly. “I’ll never betray Gwen. I’ve had chances and chances, and I’ve never done it, nor will I. It’ll never happen. I’d die first. And I know it’s been hard. You’ve been down a road almost no one else in the world can say they’ve experienced. And I know I’ve been snotty to you. I’ve been so defensive, not willing to give you and me a chance. Please, let’s work this out. For you, for me, for Gwen.”

She kisses the top of my head, and strokes my shoulders. “You were crying too?”

I nod. “Yes, for you.”

“Me?” She sounds honestly surprised. “Why me?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been through a lot. I know I was just trying to stomp you through the deck a few moments ago, but I still respect you.” I look up into her face. “Yolande, I do. Really. You can tell, like any Draka, if I’m lying. Am I?”

“No.”

“OK then. I cried because I was sad for all the pain you’ve been through. I’ve read all your poetry. I can hear the sadness there. And Gwen’s told me lots about you. I’m sorry we’ve been fighting. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. But you have to understand—I love Gwen; I’ll never betray her, and I plan on spending all my life with her, however long that is.”

“I know.” She sighs. “I’ve been an ass, myself. Truly, pax between us?”

“Yes. Peace.”

Yolande looks down into my face, and smiles. “Good.” Then she kisses me, firmly, on the lips. The kiss goes on longer and longer, and despite knowing who she is, I feel my knees getting weak. Her tongue flickers into my mouth, and her arms slip down around my waist. I feel my body responding faster and faster… and then Yolande laughs out loud. “And I better stop now, or I’ll have a Challenge from Gwen.” She slaps me lightly on the ass. “Plus, we’re using too much water. The rest of the crew will be pissed.”

I break away from her, knowing my blush starts at the top of my scalp and goes to my toes. “Yes, yes, can’t use all the hot water, you know.” 

That’s a joke, really, since with Draka technology, we’d literally never run out of hot water, but any excuse to break the touch, and the embarrassing way I was feeling, is fine with me. 

I walk out of the shower, and a towel appears on a ledge, dispensed there by the shower itself. I take the towel and begin quickly toweling off, not meeting her eyes when Yolande joins me. She laughs again—almost an elfin sound, and one I’ve never heard from her before—and then she holds my chin between thumb and forefinger, a Gwen gesture I’m very, very familiar with. She looks into my eyes. “You’re a sweet woman. And thanks for not stomping me into the lower deck. Obviously, I underestimated your fighting abilities. Among other things. I may have a thing or two to learn from you.” She leans in and kisses me again, but this time in a friendly way. “Thanks, too, for the shower idea.”

“You’re welcome.” I hand her a towel. “Sometimes, just getting away from the madding crowds can help.”

“You’re right there!” Yolande agrees, as she towels herself dry. 

“Any more bloodshed?” Gwen’s voice surprises us as she walks into the room.

“No, no more…” Yolande looks levelly at her daughter. “Gwen, Erin and I have begun the process of working things out. It may take a while, since we’re both stubborn as the seven hells…”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Gwen interjects.

Yolande laughs again. “Yes. Like someone else I could name…”, looking kindly at her daughter.

She tosses the towel into the recycler, and glances over at me. I’m still blushing, and I know Gwen’s looked me up and down a couple of times already. “You and Erin make a good couple. And Schalk. However you young’uns work things out. I’m going to work harder at understanding. And Erin and I have reached… a better place.” She stretches. “And now I’m going to my quarters, getting laid by my Servus, and taking a nap so my body can finish healing. I suggest, Erin, that you pursue similar… opportunities.”

I blush even deeper. The combat rush has worn off but in its place is a burning need… and Yolande’s certainly tweaked that a bit herself. The parts in our brains that are involved in fighting aren’t very far from those involved in another basic urge. I stand there, towel wrapped around me, and dig a toe against the tile of the shower room. Yolande grins at Gwen and walks out, naked as a jay bird and perfectly comfortable with that, towards her quarters. Gwen walks over to me. She stands there a moment, looking down at me, thoughtfully. 

I tilt my head up, looking into her leaf-green eyes and see a question there. “Um, Gwen…”

“Hmmm.” She leans forward, taking my scent. “Yes.” Then she strips the towel from me, leaving me bare. “Yes…”


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

**

“As far as we can determine, this mole hole is different from any of the others, ones we’ve created either at the micro or macro stage. This one’s self-powering. It’s very stable, and very large. It’s been observed almost continuously since it first formed, and there have been only very, very small variations in its structure, Overlords.” Yannan gestures at the vidscreen behind him and we nod; all the data presented on the screen has also been downloaded to our transducers, and I see the far-away look in several Draka faces, as they pursue various questions in the huge data mine.

I stretch in my couch, hoping my left leg will quit itching so much. The bruise is almost gone from where Yolande kicked me during the Challenge—a human’s leg would have been shattered, leaving them open for death from above, Draka-style—but my molecular armor protected me. It’s still healing though and itches abominably. Gwen looks over, sees why I’m moving, and grins at me. I ignore it. “Thank you, Sera Yannan. Excellent presentation. Comments? Questions?”

The room is quiet for a long moment. Tamarindus looks up from some notes she’s looking at on a tablet. “So, if it’s so stable, why don’t we send a probe through?”

“I think that’s a good start,” Gwen replies, sitting up. She tosses her long mahogany red braid over one shoulder, then stands. “Is one ready?” A tech nods, and Gwen makes a spare gesture. “Make it so.”

We watch as a small globe shoots from our ship into the roiling blue surface of the mole hole. No reaction as it goes through—always a good sign, usually, but in this case, who knows?—and we look for the readouts. They almost immediately arrive on the vidscreen, simultaneously sent to our transducers. Everyone in the room gasps. Instead of seeing another version of this surface, or nothing, we see… more mole holes. An infinity of them, stretching off into a hazy distance. The globe moves under our command, down what appears to be a corridor of sorts, past large mole holes, small ones, tiny ones, and little spots that I think might be mole holes but I’m not sure. We’re mesmerized by the vision. Each mole hole is a blue mirror, surface roiling with energy waves, but opaque. What the hell?

“Well, that was… unexpected.” Gwen stands there, hands on hips. “Bring the probe back.”

It pops back out into our timeline, and returns to the ship. As it enters the ship, I feel a shiver go down my spine, and wonder why. 

Techs immediately begin scanning it, and directing the data to our transducers. “Gwen. What in the hell is this? And what do we do now?” I stand up too, walk over to where she’s standing. I dearly want to climb into her arms and have her tell me, in that deep, almost Southern-but-not-quite accent that I’ve been dreaming again, but I know better. “This is… weird. I’m half expecting to see a rabbit in a top hat, with a watch, hurrying along…”

“We analyze this data; then we think about sending in a team.” Her eyes are bright with the urge to explore, to conquer. It’s a built in drive but she has it more than any other Draka I’ve ever met. She smiles down at me, teeth dazzling white in her tanned face. “A small team. With an eye out for rabbits.”

“What do we tell the Samos?” Tamarindus asks, joining us, looking at the vidscreen as data streams past us, almost too fast for me to process visually. I send a quick message to one of the servus techs, and she slows the stream down just a tad. My mind stops aching and I thank her. Tamarindus continues. “They’re asking, Gwen.”

“I knew we couldn’t keep them out for long,” Yolande quietly comments from her seat on the nominal bridge of the ship. “Not for long. Gods be damned. Some things never change.”

“We tell them we’re investigating, and share some of this data dump with them. Not all. Tamar, you decide what goes and what we keep to ourselves for now. Erin, you and I are going exploring. Go get ready. And this time, wear your combat suit and bring your weapon.” 

Gwen turns on her heel, in Command Mode, giving orders for body sensors and retrieval bots to be set up for our use. We’ve developed a lot since Gwen accidentally fell through a mole hole into my timeline, and she’s always happy to use what we’ve built to keep from being isolated on another timeline again. I don’t blame her.

**

Yannan stands by the hatch, looking deeply unhappy. “But, but…”

“No buts. Stay here, stay safe. Be good. We’ll be back soon,” I pat him on the back, feeling how tense he is. “It’ll be fine. Really. I’m with Gwen.”

“I just wish we could go with you, and help, Muhmis.” His voice shakes a little. I know part of him really wants to be with me, near me, but another part of him is terrified. He’s not built to be aggressive, genetically, and he’s doing his best to sound tough, but it just doesn’t work. I lean in and kiss him gently on the cheek.   
“Honey, it’ll be fine. Stop worrying so much. This is something your Overlords need to do, not you. You stay here, collect all the data you can, and start analyzing it. I want you to get Sara involved in that… she’s amazingly bright, I don’t want her to feel bored or left out. OK?”

He brightens at my kiss, and the task-giving. “Yes, Muhmis. I’ll get right on that. And I’ll certainly keep Sara busy. She’s a sweet girl, and you’re right, she’s very, very bright.”

I step down the ramp, joining Gwen, Tamarindus and Yolande at the surface. Gwen and I are in mottled camo covers—basically, walking black uniforms upgraded to combat readiness, with a few surprises tucked here and there in the memet armor. It always makes me feel a little queasy to watch the memet move, shifting on its own, as we wear it, or ride on it, or sit on it… I look away for a moment, staring at the huge mole hole, and focus on here and now. My layer knife hangs at my side, feeling odd. Gwen clears her throat lightly, and talking stops.

“Are you ready, Erin?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Gwen.” I smile up at her. “Let’s do this thing, then.”

“Good hunting, Gwen,” Tamarindus offers her hand in a Draka forearm-to-forearm grip. Gwen returns the gesture, her teeth bright even under the shifting, slightly opaque layer of armor we’re wearing. 

“Yes, thanks. We’ll report back with probes, and hopefully won’t be gone too long.”

Yolande steps closer to me, offering her hand as Tamarindus had done to Gwen. I’m surprised but I take her hand, feeling the incredible strength in her grip, and returning it. She looks me in the eyes, seriously, and then smiles a little. “Be careful, little Metic.”

“Of course.” I smile back. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yes. Of course.” She pats Gwen on the back gently. “Both of you, be careful. We’re not sure what you’re really walking into.”

“At least we can get back, Gods willing, without having to spend five years building a mole hole of our own,” Gwen replies. “Let’s go, Erin.” She’s uncomfortable with all this talk, wanting to get into action and I understand. I nod, and follow her towards the mole hole. 

“Thought we’d never get away,” Gwen says quietly, when we’re out of easy listening range of the others. “Thought they’d have a memorial dinner for us while we were still there…”

“They’re just concerned. And a little jealous. Both of them wanted to go.” We walk across the crisped, melted landscape, avoiding debris as best we can. As we reach the mole hole, I notice you can feel the earth shaking ever so lightly. The energy involved in this thing is astounding, on the order of thousands of sun bombs every second. But no radiation is leaking from the mole hole itself; it’s stable, apparently. “Feel the tremors?”

“Yes, very light ones. No major variations on the pulse energy we’re measuring, though, so I think it’s relatively safe to go through. Ready?” Gwen turns and smiles at me.

“Yes, Gwen. Let’s go look and see.” 

She walks just ahead of me into the mole hole, through the shimmering, roiling blue haze. She disappears from my vision and part of me wails, but I tell that part to shut up and I follow Gwen through the mole hole. As usual, when traveling through mole holes, there’s a wrenching feeling, a sudden disorientation, but it passes within milliseconds, and you find yourself… elsewhen. 

As I walk past the haze, I see Gwen again, and she gestures for me to come closer to her. She’s looking around curiously. We’re surrounded by mole holes of all shapes and sizes; some are different colors, too, instead of the usual blue-white wave-like surface we’ve seen before.

“Any rabbits?” I ask, coming closer to Gwen.

“No… not yet.” She smiles and holsters her weapon. “And I promise, I won’t shoot first and ask questions after. I’ll try a question or two first.”

“Remember, he’s in a hurry…”

“Who is?”

“The rabbit.”

“Silly girl…” She walks over to one of the mole holes that’s about as tall as she is, and about three feet in width. She pops a probe out of her combat suit, and tosses it into the opening. In about 30 seconds, it returns, and she catches it neatly with one hand. The data is transferred to our transducers, and visuals open up… this mole hole opens up to a world of red clouds, red soil, incredibly high temperatures… strong winds. No sign of life as we know it. The only sound is the keening of the wind, and it chills me to the bone.

“Was that an Earth?”

“It was Earth-sized, but no life apparent… and the temperatures remind me of when we were terraforming Venus. I think we’ll skip visiting there.” Gwen walks further down the “corridor”, which looks like the surface of the planetoid we’d landed on, where the huge mole hole has developed. Her feet crunch on the soil. I notice there’s no breeze here, no movement of air… but the air seems fresh, and not toxic. I allow my face mask to slither down around my neck, and sniff the air myself. It’s cold, and doesn’t have any real smell at all. Just cold.

I walk over to a smaller mole hole and toss a probe in myself. It pops back out like the other one did, but it’s wet when I catch it. I’m glad I have my uniform still on, since it could be water… hydrochloric acid… bear piss… who knows? My suit tells me in a nice way that it’s water. The probe tells me that the planet it’s visited looks a lot like Earth, in a very rain-foresty sort of way. The video feed shows trees towering past the probe, up into a canopy of clouds, mist and occasional blue sky fragments; birds scream, fluttering from branch to branch, and a troop of monkeys scamper by. One looks directly at the probe and pauses, hollering at the others, but then the probe promptly returns to me… leaving a very confused monkey behind. Data flows into our transducers and is filed away…


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

**

Gwen tosses another probe into a larger mole hole, and when it returns, we’re both quite interested. This one shows an Earth-like planet—not quite Earth, since the data tell us it’s larger, and has a bit more oxygen in the atmosphere than our Earth does—and the visuals show us deciduous forest, and most interestingly—a cart path. You can clearly see where some sort of vehicle has been used on the path, since wheel marks are carved into the forest floor; grass grows up where the axle would be, but the wheel marks are clear. And fresh-looking. We hear various birds, squirrels, small animals; the probe tells us that deer are nearby, and a river gurgles not far off. “This one looks promising, Erin.” Gwen allows the probe to melt back into her uniform. “Want to check it out further?”

“Yes, but let’s send a probe back to our ship, with a download of what we’ve seen so far.” I instruct the small globe I’m holding on what I want it to do, through my transducer, and it flies from my glove to the large mole hole we entered. It’ll give Tamarindus and Yolande something to look at, and data for Yannan and Sara to analyze. Plus, I think, it lets them know we’re still ok, and haven’t been made into toast yet.

“Excellent.” Gwen watches the globe fly away, then holds my eyes for a long moment. “Let’s go see what we can see, girl.”

“Yes, Gwen…” I grin. The modifications they’ve made to me have certainly increased my natural urges, like curiosity, as well as aggression, and this sounds fun. There’s a part of me that’s still worried, always will be, but another part wants to be the first through the mole hole. That doesn’t happen, though—Gwen goes first. She’s more dominant than I am, always will be—she’s more dominant than many full blooded Draka. 

She steps through the hole and I follow. After the shivers pass, we’re standing on the cart path, in a forest full of huge deciduous trees. My transducer goes into overdrive, cataloging the various flora and fauna near us; the air smells good, leafy. Gwen glances over at me and then frowns, anger crossing her face in an instant. “Why is your face shield down, wench?”

“Um… because I forgot.” I blush with embarrassment. “Sorry. It’s up now.”

“We can’t afford mistakes like that, Erin. Keep your combat mods up until I tell you otherwise. We don’t know what you could be breathing in right now—the transducers haven’t had time to process air samples completely. Keep your head together.” Her voice is level, serious, and I nod, accepting the reprimand. I was stupid to forget… I won’t make that mistake again.

We look around the forest, and then begin walking along the cart path towards the river sounds. I wonder if there’s a bridge, or just a ford here for the path? And who made the path? I hope it’s something friendly and at least a bit humanoid. I’ve gotten more used to some of the Draka’s genetic creations, like ghouloons and kawtuh, but it’s still sort of weird to be talking with a tall, furry, raccoon-cat like creature… and the ghouloons just creep me out. Considering that they were created to help hunt humans, it’s a normal reaction on my part, but still… I avoid them whenever I can.

Our uniforms blend in perfectly with the surroundings; effectively, we’re invisible in the visible spectrum, and other spectrums as well. Even our scent is missing, blocked by the memet uniforms. These were designed with combat with Samothracians in mind, so being invisible means being completely invisible. The only way you might possibly know we were there is to notice the grass bending beneath our feet as we walk silently… I’d hate to be on the opposing side, actually, even as good as the Samothracians have become. The Draka take being deadly, deadly seriously. Even the little animals in the surrounding woods don’t notice us, and my eyes widen as a herd of deer walk calmly past us along a trail near the cart path, a ten point buck leading his ladies towards the water.

“Good hunting, anyway,” Gwen’s voice whispers in my ear, through my transducer. I jump a little, knowing she can do that—I can too, of course—but not expecting it. I was lost in the visuals. I nod, and she grins at me with a mental image. It’s weird not being able to see her but it’s also weird to look down and not be able to really see your own hands, arms, or legs. Just your footprints. Flowers are everywhere, and their scent is sweet… my transducer and Gwen’s has finished analyzing the air, and tells us it’s safe, if heavily pollinated, to breath. I allow some fresh air in, and let Gwen know I’ve done so. She acknowledges it and walks past me—her feet pressing down some of the wildflowers—as we approach the river.

It’s a mid-sized one, full of large boulders. The water is splashing and gurgling along, looking cold. Typical mountain stream, clear and clean-looking. There’s some flood debris along the banks, huge limbs jammed into the clusters of boulders… and a small, rickety-looking bridge over the river greets us as we step out near the cart path. It looks like someone got some logs, tied them together hopefully and then placed them across the river. Barely. I’d hate to ride anything across it, or even walk on it very much, but it’s evidence of some type of intelligent critters around. Gwen goes closer to the bridge, analyzing it, and I look around. There’s a foot path leading down to the river, angling under the bridge, so I follow it.

As I come around one of the large, granite boulders, the sound of the river increases to a small roar… and in the shade of the handmade bridge, I spot our first person. Looks human. Looks like a young woman, Caucasian, teens… she’s wearing what looks like homespun clothes, a tunic with a bright edge of colors complementing the light gray color of the tunic itself; trousers and scuffed boots. A belt of leather, looks like, with a small sheathed knife on her left hip. She’s sitting on a rock, fishing pole in hand, happily looking out over the water, waiting for a fish to bite. Boy, is she in for a surprise!

I let Gwen know immediately, and she joins me silently, her eyes alight. She tells me through our transducers for me to go right, she’ll take the left, and we’ll both come up on the girl from behind, at the same time. I agree, and we walk silently around the girl, who’s still blissfully unaware of us. A fish bites, and she carefully yanks the fishing rod up, hooking the catch, and then pulls it in with a large grin on her tanned face. The fish flops on the shore, and she catches it, dispatching it quickly, with an experienced hand… and then begins to gut it. Gwen steps into her light, and I step closer too.

The girl notices the change in the sunlight, and looks up, puzzled, fish guts spattering into the river next to her. She squints, trying to figure out why the forest looks odd now. Then Gwen changes the camo pattern on her uniform, and appears in her high-collared black uniform, mahogany red hair glinting in the bright sunlight, glinting off her layer knife in her right hand. The girl gasps slightly, scrambling backwards, and bumps into me. I’ve changed the pattern on my uniform too, and she turns to find me standing there, looking like Gwen in walking blacks. 

The small knife in her hand wavers but then drops to the grass, as does the gutted fish. Her mouth drops open, in dismay, and her eyes are huge—pupils dilated. The acrid scent of fear greets me, and the modified part of me—the new part—is excited by it. Gwen chuckles, reading not only the girl’s fear but my reaction, and the girl spins back around to face her. She says something in a lilting voice, that I can’t place… no language I know… and Gwen’s smile becomes larger. She steps closer to the wench, sunlight still sparkling from the surface of her layer knife. She holds it carefully, so the girl can see it clearly, and the girl lets out a small sob. She drops to her knees, hands clasped in front of her, and continues talking in her language, asking us something, her tone despairing.

Despite the rush of enjoyment… lust… excitement… the tone of her voice, and the sadness in her eyes stops me cold. The smile leaves my face, and I pause, letting Gwen see my face. Her face is flushed, in kill-mode, but she pauses too. “Gwen, don’t… don’t kill her. We need to talk with her.”

“I told you, I’ll ask questions first this time, then…” She sheathes the layer knife, and the girl sobs again, quietly, dropping her head. Her flaxen blonde hair shines in the sunlight coming through the bridge, and shakes as her whole body does. “Wench… can you understand me?”

The girl looks up at Gwen, knowing she’s been asked a question, but her reply tells us she doesn’t know what we’re saying. My transducer, and Gwen’s, analyzes what she’s saying, and slowly it becomes clearer, like static leaving a phone line. The transducers labor at it for a bit, but begin to translate in real time to us, and allow us to speak with the wench in her own language. “Girl, be calm. We’re not going to hurt you, if you’re good. Understand me?”

Her eyes widen more, if possible, and then she nods rapidly. “Yes, Star-one. Yes. Please, don’t hurt me.”

Star-one? I send Gwen a query, and she nods, raising an eyebrow coolly. She squats down next to the girl, who’s still quivering on her knees. The fish, knife and fishing pole lie forgotten by her side. “Yes, we are from the stars. We can bring great joy, or great pain. You choose—obey us, and no pain; disobey us, and die.”

“Yes, Star-one. Yes! As the priest says… but please, I’m only 15 summers old, please, don’t… don’t eat me.” She sobs now, terror in her voice.

Eat her? Good Lord. “No, no… little one, we won’t eat you.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“Star-one…” Her sobs increase. “Please… I know it’s the Law… it’s the Law, and Way of Life, but please…”

Gwen stands up, looking at me, her face calmer now, more serious. “Obviously, someone’s been here and put the fear of all the gods into these humans. And she is human—homo sapiens—take her scent.” 

I sniff and allow my transducer to do its thing… yep, unadulterated human being. Terrified. “How do we calm her down?”

“Pheromones for now,” Gwen replies. We both adjust our scents, and after a moment or two, her sobs begin to slow. She looks up at Gwen, and Gwen smiles down at her kindly. “Now, wench. If you behave yourself, you’ll be fine. Where is the priest? And the village? I wish to speak to the priest.”

“Y-y-yes, Star-one. I’ll take you there. Please, don’t call down the fire on us, I promise, we’ve been good about worship… every seventh day, we pray…”At Gwen’s gesture, the girl stands, still shaking. I pick up her fish, fishing pole and knife, handing them to her. She looks shocked. I guess Star-ones don’t do that sort of thing. 

“You caught it, you take it… that’s a nice trout.” I smile at her. “These are yours.”

“Yes, Star-one. Thank you,” she replies, looking nervous and a little confused. 

“What’s your name, wench?” Gwen asks, turning her with a finger and thumb on her chin so the girl is facing her again. 

“Veetek, Star-one.”

“Interesting name. Now take us to the priest.” Gwen smiles at her. “Now.”

The girl nods rapidly, and begins to climb back up to the cart path and the bridge. She waits for us to join her, then quickly scampers across the rickety bridge. I go next, then Gwen; the bridge creaks alarmingly under our weight but manages to hold together. I think a course in engineering would be good for these people… The girl leads us into the woods on the other side of the river, towards her village and her priest.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

**

Gwen’s still meeting with the priests; the orbital battle stations are on their way, and another world has been conquered for the Draka. Part of me should be happy but part of me’s depressed. I’d hoped, somehow, that we could just visit somewhere, maybe not interfere too much, and then leave. But that’s not how things work with the Draka, I remind myself. And you’re a Draka now. So deal with it.

The village has a temple set aside for the Star-ones, just in case they fall out of the sky and visit, so that’s where we’re staying. It’s stone, and made carefully, with a lot of attention to detail. Not too uncomfortable, and the woodwork inside is really beautifully done. I walk around, looking at it, wondering how they did some of it by hand. It must have taken a lot of time and effort, that’s for sure. My bare feet enjoy the cloth rugs along the floor; all of it very clean, well-taken care of. The village itself is very nicely kept. I hoped it was just that they liked it that way, but turns out the Star-ones have told them how to live healthily. Guess it’s good to have healthy stock, in case you want a midnight snack. Don’t want diseased food… I shudder and turn my mind back to the woodwork.

We still haven’t quite found out who the Star-ones are, but apparently we’re the next best thing. They’re certainly as afraid of us as they are of the Star-ones. And from what we’ve been able to determine, the Star-ones don’t visit very often. Just often enough to harvest a few tasty young humans from each generation, from each village. It sounds very coordinated, and that worries me. Gwen’s not as worried, since we have weapons on us that could destroy whole cities, let alone villages, and the battle stations are coming. We’ve sent back a probe with all the details, and set up locator beacons to guide the ships in once they come through.

A small whisper reaches me… a young woman’s voice, Veetek’s. “Overlord, please?”

I walk over to where she’s kneeling, by a wooden table with a tray of fresh food on it. She bows and gestures. “Do you wish food and drink now? The other Overlord has partaken…”

“Yes, thanks,” I answer, and sit down on the wooden bench by the table. She rises from her knees and pours me a goblet of wine. I heft it, and realize the goblet must be solid gold. “Where did this come from?”

She looks shyly over at me. “The wine comes from Windmere Village, up further on the mountain, Overlord.”

“The goblet?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Overlord. I thought you meant…”

I nod. “I know, and it’s good to know where the wine comes from. But the goblet?”

“From over the Great Sea, Overlord. That’s all I know. Only Star-ones can drink from them, and only priests and their chosen can handle them. I’m chosen, so I can hand it to you, for your use.” She smiles at me, her face blushing in the candlelight. “And we have good food, too…”

A piece of chicken appears on my plate, followed by bread, a vegetable mix, a small pat of butter… I smile back at her. “Yes, very good food. Did you cook this yourself?”

“Of course, Overlord.” She bobs her head. “I hope you enjoy…”

“Thank you!” I think about asking her to sit with me, but that would freak her out. I’ve learned to be more distant, commanding, with these people, since that’s what they expect. It’s second nature for Gwen, and didn’t faze her a bit at first, but it did me. I’m getting used to it, though. I nod at Veetek and she backs away, to kneel at the entrance to the chamber, waiting for anything else I’d ask for. I finish the food quickly—I’m almost always hungry, with the increased Draka metabolism I have now—and polish the plate with the bread. The wine’s good, too, sweet without being too sweet, and very tasty. I sit back and consider what else I want.

One of the things I have now, being a nominal Draka, is an increased sex drive. Gwen keeps me pretty busy, but we’ve only had time for one or two brief trysts while here, since she’s been busy being Overlord from the Stars, and I’ve been keeping out of her way… my body aches with need. I eye the young woman by the door…

“Veetek…” She rises from her seat by the door and hurries over, a smile on her face. She’s wearing a circlet of daisies in her flaxen-blonde hair, a white tunic with blue edges, and a knee-length white skirt, sandals. Her scent is fresh, clean… arousing. 

“Yes, Overlord?” She stands there, ready to do my bidding. I’m not used to this. Years ago—not so many years ago—I was in her position, with Gwen. I remember it very clearly. For some reason, that turns me on even more.

“Um… sit here by me.” I gesture towards the bench. “You look very pretty tonight.”

“Thank you, Overlord…” she says quietly, her eyes on the floor but a blush creeping up her neck. She folds her hands in her lap and sits there, waiting, quietly.  
Now what do I do? I wonder. Ok, what would Gwen do? I reach over and gently stroke a forefinger down her cheek. “Pretty girl…”

She jumps visibly.

My pulse jumps too. I move closer, stroke my finger down her face again. “You are a pretty girl.”

She doesn’t say anything but her pulse quickens, the blush deepens. Her scent tells me she’s getting aroused but that she’s frightened too. Great, the Star-ones probably did awful things to them before they ate them. I sigh. “Girl, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, Overlord.” She trembles a little. I look down and she’s twisting her hands together, long fingers knotting together nervously. I take her hands in mine, stretching them out from the knots she’s working them into.

“Seriously, Veetek. I won’t hurt you. But… I want you.” My voice deepens as my lust increases. This is new for me; I’ve taken a few Servus since becoming a Metic Citizen, but they’re so willing, so pliant, so expecting to perform for me… she’s not. And that’s also a turn on. “I want you a lot.”

“Yes, Overlord.” She still doesn’t look at me, but her hands rest in mine, waiting. Some of the tension drains out of her shoulders. I wait a long moment, then lean in, kiss her gently on the neck. Her scent is intoxicating me, and I know my pulse is racing. She makes a small noise but leans against me as I kiss her again on the neck. I’m fighting off an urge to just grab her, throw her over my shoulder and toss her down onto our bed. I’m also fighting the urge to bite her… I feel hungry, tight… hot. I swallow hard and then nibble on her ear. She giggles a tiny bit but doesn’t move away. “I want you, pretty girl…”

I move one arm around her waist, holding her closer. “Do the Star-ones take humans like this?” I kiss her again, and then again, on the neck, nuzzling closer.  
She shudders but with delight; the fear is fading. “Yes, I’ve heard they do. I’ve never been… well, never even with anyone like me, let alone a Star-one or Overlord. I don’t know… what to do… Overlord…”

I take my other hand from hers and turn her face to mine. Her lips are ready, firm, warm… waiting. I kiss her then, for a long, long moment. I finally let my tongue flicker past her lips at the end of the kiss, and she gasps slightly. “Overlord…”

“It’s ok. Promise. Come with me now. Bed’s better than a bench or a table.” I stand up, pulling her up with me, holding her close. I feel her nipples hard against my chest, and know mine are hard like pebbles themselves, and aching for her touch, her mouth. My mouth closes on hers again, and this time I open her mouth with mine, plunging my tongue into her ready, waiting hot mouth. She moans a little, and returns the kiss with interest. Her arms still hang down by her sides, though, and I know she’s unsure of where to put them.

Loosening my grip on the wench, I take her hands and show her how to wrap her hands around the back of my neck, then I run my hands down her flanks, stroking, exploring. No bra, that’s for sure. Good, I’ve wrestled with enough of those for a lifetime. I kiss her again and she moans louder now, her arousal plain to hear and see, and scent. A sudden surge rises in me; I pick her up, cradling her in my arms, and walk quickly to the bed.

Laying her down firmly but not roughly, I stand, and strip my walking blacks off, followed by my underwear. I climb on top of her, watching her watching me, her eyes wide in the gloom. The candlelight from the dinner table only reaches so far, and the bed’s comfortably shaded. Still enough light for me to see by, but I know it’s darker and more mysterious for her human eyes. I kiss her again, almost too hard, and she moves under me, trying for more contact with our bodies.

“Mmmhh, no… not yet,” I whisper, as I begin to undress her. The urge rises again, and I can’t control it well. Her tunic ends up in pieces on the floor by the bed, as do the rest of her clothes. The daisy circlet is history, too. She’s trembling now, a little frightened by the strength I’m showing, the shredding of her clothes, the way I’m holding her still. My pulse throbs in my ears, and that’s not the only thing that’s throbbing. I allow us one long movement together but then pull apart from her again. She reaches up, wanting… and I hold her hands in one of mine, above her head. “Like I said, wench, not yet… I want this a certain way, girl.”

I lean down, nipping her breasts. She groans and arches upward. “Please, oh, please, Overlord…”

“All the time in the world, baby, all the time…” I remember that Gwen had made some restraints for us last night, and pull them down from the head of the bed, sliding her hands into them gently. “But it’s going to be how I want it, this time…”

“Overlord!” Veetek gasps out loud when I restrain her, and I grin down at her in the semi-darkness. 

“You have to trust me, my dear.” I nibble along her neck, down to her shoulders, then to her breasts. I nip harder, just above her left breast, leaving a slight mark. She groans again and writhes against me, whispering her pleas of more. I just laugh softly and begin kissing my way down her smooth, firm belly. I spread her legs apart with my hands, feeling the muscles moving deliciously beneath my fingers. Her body rises to meet my lips and I taste her for the first time… first time for her, too, I remember, and go even more slowly. Her groans turn into soft screams of pleasure…

The lust in me is so hard, so direct. It’s different; I’m used to submitting to Gwen, to feeling Gwen’s power and strength on me, moving me. Now I’m the one moving, being powerful, taking what I want how I want it. My mouth waters and I move back up her slender body, nipping and licking where I want. She’s begun to pant now, begging me, beseeching me, her body trying to rub against mine, to release that tremendous aching want. I let my thigh lie between her legs and she grinds against it, her body knowing how it wants to move. I press down, allowing her to pleasure herself… for a moment. 

Then I move my leg, cup her breasts in my hands, and begin suckling. She cries out in frustration and I stop completely, looking down at her seriously. I want so badly to just slam my fingers into her and make her really scream in lust, but I wait… holding myself back. I know now, why Gwen looks so serious sometimes when she’s taking me. It takes a huge amount of willpower not to just… let loose. I look at the girl and she whimpers softly, tears tracking down her face.

“Please, Overlord, please…”

“You have to remember, I’m in charge. And I’m not playing here.” I sit astride her, waiting. “I can keep you on the edge until you go mad, girl.”

“No, no, please…” She stops, looking up at me appealingly. “I know you’re in charge, Star-one, Overlord, my Keeper… please. Show me what you want, and I’ll do it. Please… don’t make me go mad. Don’t keep me like this, I’m on fire, please…”

“I know you are. I know exactly how you feel, oddly enough, baby…” I lean down, kiss her roughly. And then again. She moans into my kisses, and the lust pulls at me. My hands run down her body, and I move to one side, stroking, probing, opening… my mouth and fingers busy. She screams again, as I enter her for the first time, in pleasure… and I remember that she’s told me she’s a virgin. I go more slowly but the need builds, and builds, my need to spread her, enter her, take her and make her all mine. I’ve never felt like this before and it’s thrilling me to the core. She arcs upward, her hips thrusting up with my entrances into her, and she whines…  
My fingers enter deeply, and find her hymen. I slow down again and she squeals… 

I stand up and walk over to the side of the bed, get something out of my uniform pocket… Gwen thought it was funny that I brought the soothing gel with me (of course, she brought all sorts of weapons, but I thought ahead to the time we’d be spending together, and knowing that she can wear me out completely, I brought some other things…). I spread some on my hands and then climb back onto the bed, sliding my hands along her inner thighs, right into her waiting body. She cries out at first in surprise, then in delight, as the tingling sensation fills her inside and out.

I begin thrusting seriously now, my body aching to just take her. To devour her… I lean down and nip her hard enough to draw a little blood. It tastes so good, just like when I went down on her. I lick and swallow more and she arches again under me, her body tensing, coming closer to orgasm. My mouth is on hers now, tongue thrusting in hard, and my fingers fill her, taking what I want, what she wants to give me. The gel keeps anything from hurting, but I know immediately from her scent that I’ve taken her maidenhead, and that she’s mine in more ways than one. Veetek yells out in lust, her body rising in a spasm against mine, and my echoing orgasm is deep and hard… rushing fills me, washing over me; we ride together like that for what seems like hours but is only a few moments.

I slowly move out of her, and lay next to her on the bed as she tries to control her breathing; her tears still run but they’re tears of joy, not fear or pain. If every first time could be that good, I think wryly, the world would be a better place. I kiss her slowly, softly and she sighs. I let her arms loose and she wraps them around me; I let her stroke my back, my sides… her mouth is hungry and I let it go where it wants to. Soon, my body’s trembling, then rocketing into another orgasm as she pleasures me eagerly. I stroke my fingers through her blonde hair, motioning for her to come up and lay next to me, to snuggle. That doesn’t last long, though, and we go at it again. I take her so many ways, and show her how to serve me in as many ways, that night, that it turns into a blur. Finally, after I’ve realized I need to slow down, since her sex drive isn’t as strong as mine—nor is her body, actually—we lay together, sated, sweaty, but comfortable. Veetek sighs deeply and snuggles her head under my chin, my arms around her shoulders. “See, not so bad…” I whisper.

“Oh, Overlord…” she whispers back sleepily. I kiss her forehead and we drift off, covers over her, off me. I don’t wake up until the dawn light begins to break through into the room, and I hear a soft chuckle from the table across from us. I look up and Gwen’s sitting there, eating breakfast and smiling at me. I disengage myself from the wench and climb out of bed, stretch… much to Gwen’s enjoyment, I might add, and then pad over to the table, taking the pro-offered handful of grapes from my lover. “Good morning…”

“Good morning to you!” She eats another grape, and obviously sniffs me, more for show than anything, since she can take my scent without moving from across the room. I know what my scent says to a Draka right now… I eat a grape or two then offer her one between my fingers… stroking it over her full lips. She takes it suddenly, and then I’m in her arms, across her legs. She looks down at me, smiling, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Then she turns me on my belly, smacks my ass… spreads me… and starts stroking. 

I try to wriggle out of her grip but there’s no way, and the delicious feeling of helplessness washes over me. I stop wiggling to get away and just wiggle. She begins to enter me, and I groan out loud… I’m instantly aroused and ready for her, and she knows it. She plays with me for a long, long time and finally allows me to come, helpless on her lap. When I’m through pumping up and down, Gwen sits me up facing her, stroking her long fingers down my chest, caressing my full breasts, kissing me deeply.

“You still like being mine, then…”she says between kisses, “wench…”

“Oh, and how!” I kiss her back. “Last night was… something different for me, I never felt like that before. But with you… it’s always so… oh, god…” I wrap my legs around her waist, and kiss her fiercely. “Gwen, my Gwen…” She picks me up, goes to the end of the table that doesn’t have any breakfast on it, and lays me on the wood. And then lays me like she always does, rocking my whole world.

We sit up to see Veetek sitting up in bed, the covers gathered around her. She looks alarmed, and no wonder, since Gwen and I have been doing our best to break the heavy wooden table… I grin at her over Gwen’s shoulder, and she blushes, deep red, ducking her head down into the covers. Gwen chuckles. “Ah, that’s what I like, wenches here, wenches there… all for breakfast. And a whole world to take, as well.” She slaps my ass and stands me up. “Speaking of, the orbital stations are due in the next day or so, got a response back from Tamarindus and Yolande. So… soon, work!”

“Yes, Gwen,” I grin at her. “But time for breakfast now… I’m starving. Come here, Veetek, and join us. It’s ok.” She comes over shyly, draped in the bedcovers. Gwen laughs at that, but sits regally at the head of the table while the wench serves us the rest of the copious breakfast. Veetek ends up kneeling next to me as I sit on one of the wooden benches, and lays her head on my thigh. Life is good, if confusing.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

**

“So… you have another whole solar system to explore, Gwen. Orbital battle platforms in place, Draka coming in every day, the locals worshipping you… now what?” I lean back in my chair, brushing my hair back from my forehead. Another breakfast, another day in the Domination. Veetek has scampered off with the plates, and it’s just me and Gwen now.

“Well, we still have to deal with the Samothracians. And we have to find out who or what the Star-ones are, and how to deal with them. And we have yet more mole holes to explore… not personally, so much, since we have teams now from our timeline, doing that…” Gwen pauses, buttering a hot scone expertly. “And there are other things.”

“As in?”

“Your unease. We need to explore that.” She looks over at me, her eyes level. “You’re a Citizen of the Domination of the Draka; you made the choice knowing full well what our system is like, what our philosophy is… yet you’re beginning to show signs you regret it. Are you?”

Crap. I thought I’d kept it all successfully hidden away. “No, not really. Just sometimes, I wish things could be a little different.”

“How?”

OK, you asked, I’ll tell. “Gwen, for instance, this place. We could’ve just visited, not taken over. We could have kept exploring. Not everything has to be a conquest, does it? We have unlimited places to search. Why do we have to take over every place we land?”

She sits back, considering, pursing her lips. “We conquer because we’re made to conquer. We dominate our environments, no matter where we are. That’s part of our makeup, genetically speaking, and it’s also part of our culture. I have no problem with doing so. Why explore if you can’t claim what you find, for yourself and your people?”

“Just to see what’s there.” I sigh. Sometimes it’s like beating my head against a rock; all I end up with is a headache. “That’s all. Just to see, the joy of exploring something new. You have the additional joy of dominating whatever it is you find. If we’d found sentient mud pies here, instead of humans, you’d have enjoyed dominating the mud pies just as much, I think.”

“Well, not quite as much. These humans do make lovely mounts, don’t they?” She looks me right in the eye, and I blink. “Don’t they, Erin?”

“Um, well, yes…” I look down at my hands, remembering the last couple of nights, and Veetek. Allowing myself to feel the urges again, the surges of lust and dominance that I didn’t know I had in me. Gwen’s got a point there, and she knows it, too. “Yes, they do.”

“Describe it to me.” She comes over and sits next to me at the table, instead of at the head, her usual spot. Her arm goes across the back of my chair, and she leans in towards me. “What does it feel like when you take her?”

“You should know… why should I…”

Gwen cuts me off with a gesture from her free hand. “Tell me. Now.”

When she uses that tone, I automatically remember being hers, belonging to her as a serf, in the early days of the Conquest. I shiver. Then I get mad, likely what she was intending in the first place. I’m a Metic, at least, and she shouldn’t use that tone… I sigh. “OK, ok. Don’t get your panties in a wad, woman. Jeesh. It feels wonderful to take her.”

“Not enough. Tell me literally what it feels like. And keep my panties out of it.” Her tone is still serious, and I know not to push her too far, whether or not I’m a Metic. She’s still Archon, and very aware of it. As I should be.

“Um…” I pause, trying to put it into words. Feelings rush through me, almost too fast to keep track of. “It feels like, like I’m hungry, and she’s a feast. Like I could devour her. A burning, throbbing need to take her, to ride her.” My body actually starts to react as I remember the last couple of nights, and I try to clamp down on the reactions. “A need. And an urge… a drive. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and I’m… well, I get scared of it sometimes. What if I go too fast, too hard? She’s not like you or me. I could hurt her without really meaning to. And…”

“And?”

“And I feel sort of bad for liking it so much. I didn’t even ask her if she wanted to, the first time. I just took her.”

“She was willing…”

“Yes, but still in awe of the Star-ones she thinks we are. That doesn’t mean she just met me somewhere and then wanted to go to bed with me of her own accord.” I look up into Gwen’s face. “That’s where it feels weird. One, we’re not the Star-ones she thinks we are; two, I didn’t give her much of a choice. Between the shock and awe campaign, and our pheromones, they don’t really have a chance, do they?”

“No. Not really. And that’s not a bad thing, as long as you’re… not damaging the serfs. That’s considered déclassé. At least under my Archonate, it is. We have a responsibility to take good care of them, protect them, but having them serve us in any way we desire is part of the reward. And you know that, as a Citizen. So why the angst?”

She’s still got her arm across the back of my chair, her presence tangible almost, and I sigh. Pheromonal control is nice sometimes but sometimes… I wish I could stand up and walk away, have my own space. But Gwen knows that, and keeps us where we are. “Gwen, I don’t know. I wasn’t raised this way. It feels weird. Like when Yolande kissed me in the showers—woman to woman, it was hotter than hell. But I knew she was your Mom, and that weirded me out. It took the erotic element down for the count, that’s for sure. And I know, I know… it’s my cultural training. And I can be retrained. I’m just not sure I want to be.”

“Want to be retrained? Or want to be a Draka?” Her voice is soft, but very, very serious.

“I want to be with you.” My voice is soft and serious too.

“That wasn’t an answer to my questions.”

“No…” I pause, thinking. “I chose to be a Metic Citizen. I accept that, and will always do my duty for the State. I just… you have to…”

“I have to what?” The words come out slowly, with an emphasis on “have”. Perhaps I should’ve rephrased that somehow.

“Gwen, you… need to understand. I’ll never be the bright young Draka you’d like me to be. I’m a human, although there’s not a whole lot left that hasn’t been genetically altered now. I’ll serve you, serve the State, but there are things I just don’t feel comfortable with, and probably never will. I’ll always doubt the wisdom of dominating everything in sight. I’m not built that way. And you know, you knew that, when you offered me the Metic Citizenship. I know the augmented humans have developed some new skills, which we control, but we do serve the State as Citizens. Loyal ones. I’m not doubting you, or anything. I’m just not a True Believer.”

“You are when you’re mounting your pretty girl.”

I groan. “Good grief… sex isn’t everything…”

“It’s often a metaphor for how we view the rest of our lives. You’ve been very comfortable being under me, both in bed and out, for years now. But now… you’re beginning to feel comfortable being dominant yourself. It’s unnerving, I’m sure. But don’t presume to judge the Domination because you’re slightly uncomfortable with being on top yourself. Believe me, over time, you’ll be more comfortable, and the doubt, I’m sure, will lessen.” She leans back, a small smile on her face.  
I look up into her leaf-green eyes. “Gwen… it’s been such a change, ever since I met you, since that night in the pavilion on the beach, on Andros. It takes a lot of getting used to.”

“And humans do take longer to assimilate things, get their unconscious in line with their conscious thought process. I know. I know humans, and I know you. You’re adjusting. Just don’t…” She pauses. “Just don’t show it so openly, especially near these humans, or some Draka. That won’t do. They won’t understand, and it could create problems. Understand, darling?”

“Yes, Gwen.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. “I’ll do better at being a closet Doubting Thomas.”

“You can talk with me anytime,” she replies, and cups my face in her hand. The arm around the back of the chair drops down to caress my shoulders, and she kisses me on the mouth, hard. “Anytime.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

**

The priest kneels before us, his head bowed to the floor. Behind him is a rank of other humans, Veetek among them, also kneeling. The priest’s wearing a long white robe and a white hat on his balding head; incense fills the air with a light blue smoke, and I want to sneeze. Better not, I tell myself, Star-ones most likely don’t sneeze. Or if they do, it’s a signal that means instant death to the nearest human worshipper. I stifle the urge and try to look regal. Gwen has no problem doing that, I realize, as I glance over at her. She’s on a throne, almost as high as mine, her legs spread out in front of her, a lioness at rest. Her eyes roam over the group, calculating, observing. Dominating. She spares me a quick look, then leans forward, her elbows on her knees.

“Priest.” The man shudders to his very bones at the tone of her voice. I jump a little myself.

“Star-one, how may I serve you?” His voice quivers more than a little, and I notice how much he’s sweating in the sunlight that spills into the room, through the incense smoke. The line of humans behind him quivers too but is silent.

“We are the Overlords. Address us as such. Our eyes in the sky are here, and will punish any of you who are mad enough to disobey. Must I show you?” Gwen’s voice is grim. I think back over the last couple of hours, and shudder at what I think she’s going to do. 

The orbital battle stations have arrived, as well as a contingent of about 40 Draka. No Servus yet, since the situation is still a bit “iffy”. They can come later, when things are calm. Calmer. As the Draka arrived, the humans gathered from surrounding villages, curious, frightened, hopeful, relatively docile. That is, until one human male got his feelings hurt when a Draka male decided to mount him in public. A young Draka, impetuous, not used to humans either on our timeline or here; a young human, knowing he can be sacrificed, but not quite ready to be a boy toy, either. A barnyard, with both human and Draka watching… the young human had struck out at the Draka, and the Draka had struck back. Did what he wanted to then, to the youth, and then brought him before Gwen.

The human’s over in one corner of the room, hands tied tightly behind his back, not because the Draka are afraid of him, or think he can get away, but because it puts him in a painful, humiliating position. One of many he’s endured in the last couple of hours. His face is dirt and tear stained; eyes wide in shock and terror. Not a bad looking guy, but… I shake my head. I know the Draka like to make examples; an example can be worth any number of words, or promises, or threats. But still…

The Draka male stands near us, his face still slightly flushed with rage. Righteous rage, in his eyes. He’s so young. He doesn’t understand humans, how to manage them effectively, and we have better things to do. Unfortunately, now we have to deal with this, since it’s so public. Gwen was furious at first but now she’s just coldly angry. I know better than to try to talk with her when she’s like this. “Archon?”

She spares him a glance and he quiets immediately. He knows he’s in hot water for his actions, too. And he knows how powerful Gwen is, and how she doesn’t appreciate having to stop what she’s doing to clean up a mess he made. She looks back to the priest, and his acolytes. “Priest. You have been told the rules about Overlords. You have told your people. Have you not?”

“Yes, yes, Star… I mean, Overlord. Yes, we know the Rules. We live by your Rules. And by your Grace.”

“Indeed.” She stands, then. “And you die by our Rules. A human will never raise its hand to an Overlord. That is one of the Rules. And obviously, one not learned well enough.” She makes a gesture, and the human boy is hoisted into the air by two Draka. They take him outside, as he whimpers.

“All of you. Outside, now.” She uses Command Voice and the humans almost fall over themselves in obeying. We all walk outside, where the human has been deposited on the ground, in the center of the village. Gwen makes another gesture, and young humans come forth, stones in their hands. They bow and make a circle of stones around the boy’s trembling body. Snot and tears course down his face, and from what I can smell, he’s pissed himself too. Damn.

The children back away, behind the ranks of adult humans, kneeling in the sunlight. “Humans. Don’t annoy us. Our anger is something to be feared. I call upon the power of the Overlords to punish this insolent one. Now.” Gwen’s voice is pitched loud, and carries across the crowd like she’s used a bull horn. The humans moan, a low, keening noise that makes the hair on the back of my head stand up.

There’s only that, the low moan, and then the boy screams. His hair begins to smoke, and his body starts to… oh, Lord. He screams again, long and despairing, and then starts another scream with his next breath. It’s cut off suddenly as his body ignites completely. I know a beam has come down from one of the orbital stations, but seeing what it does to a human body is horrifying. I look away. I hear the crowd wailing, sobbing, some puking… there’s a puff and an awesome silence weighs down on us. I look back at where the boy had been writhing, on fire, and there’s a small singed hole in the ground, and some black cinders surrounding it. The crowd has fallen on their faces, groveling in the grass and dirt, silent now.

I swallow hard, look over at Gwen. She’s standing there, hands on hips, looking imperious. Her green eyes are grim, hard. No trace of a smile or anything but a stern anger shows on her face. She looks over the crowd of humans, groveling on the earth, and stamps her foot, lightly. They look up, terror in their faces. “If need be, we can destroy each and every one of you like this. Remember the Rules, and live by them .Or die, if you so choose. Do not annoy us, again.”

The Draka stand around, looking either serious or slightly bored. I find the young Draka male whose youthful indiscretion had precipitated the whole thing; he looks… impressed. I feel dirty. I sigh and shrug my shoulders, trying to release the tension that’s built up. Gwen glances at me and I swallow, hard. She’s still in no mood to be messed with, and after our discussion about me being a closet Doubting Thomas, I need to be aware and more careful how I express myself in public. I brush the dust off one boot by rubbing it against the opposite calf, and try to look neutral. Gwen looks away and it feels like I can breathe again.

“Go. And remember the Rules. We wish to be kindly, to bring you good things. But if you disobey, you will die. It’s that simple, humans.” Her voice is low, serious. An overtone of slight regret, like a parent who wishes they didn’t have to be the disciplinarian in the family, but who will do it whenever necessary to train their young ‘uns. The humans back away, on their knees, until they’re several yards away from the circling Draka, then break up into small groups, hurrying away. One woman stays, though, crouching near the blackened circle.

“Overlord.” Her voice is cracked with emotion. Gwen looks down, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

The priest hurries over, tugs at the woman but fails to budge her. His little white hat falls off into the ashes. “Overlord.” The woman looks up into Gwen’s face.  
“Wench?” The Archon’s voice is grim.

“Kill me as well.” The woman looks down at the small hole, the cinders. “He was all I had. His father died years ago. He was everything to me. Kill me, please.”

Gwen walks forward, and the priest falls to his face next to the woman. “Overlord, please, she’s just gone mad with grief, please, have mercy, Overlord, please…”

I step forward too. This has to stop. “Archon…”

Gwen’s voice blasts me through my transducer. “Silence. And one more step, one more word, Citizen, and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Silence.”

She looks down at the two humans. “Wench. Your son brought the punishment on himself. He chose to raise his hand to an Overlord. No matter why. The Rules are simple. But I am sorry for your loss.” She reaches down, pulls the woman to her feet. The priest continues to lie on the ground, trembling. The woman hangs limply in Gwen’s grip, eyes steadily looking at the Draka. “But you’re not going to be a martyr, either. Go about your life, and remember the Rules.” Gwen sets her down firmly on the ashes.

“I wish to die, Overlord.” She raises her hand as if to strike Gwen, and I lean in, grabbing her arm, pulling it down towards me. 

“No, you just think you do.” I feel the anger from Gwen, and murmurs from the other Draka around us, but continue. “You’re not honoring your son’s memory much, just trying to kill yourself. And the Archon—the Overlord—has already told you no. So come on, stop it.” 

I pull the woman close to me. “Where there’s life, there’s hope. Stop this.” She looks up at me in shock, her mouth dropping open. “I mean it, stop this right now. Go, go with your priest, and pray for better guidance than suicidal thoughts. Pray for yourself, your son’s spirit. Priest, take this wench from here, pray with her.” I lace Command into my voice, and the older man springs to his feet, taking the arm of the woman. She’s still looking at me in disbelief as he leads her away. 

I stoop down and pick up his little white hat, dust it off against my leg. I can give it to Veetek later. Gwen comes close behind me, I feel her there, and wait for the reprimand. The punishment. I don’t know how much she wants to do in public, since I am a Citizen, but I’m prepared… or try to be.

“Good work, Citizen,” Gwen’s voice surprises me. I turn to her and look up into her face. “Thank you for your assistance. Humans can be tricky sometimes; managing them takes time and skill to learn. You’re doing well. You…” her voice hardens, and she turns to face the young Draka male who was involved in the incident earlier. “You… on the other hand, need more training. And I don’t want any more mistakes like this, all of you. Things are still a bit tenuous here; we need to establish ourselves more before you can act like this young buck did. And frankly, I’d prefer it if you took willing mounts, not unwilling ones, in any case. It makes the humans much easier to manage, and we can avoid messy things like this. They’re time-consuming, bothersome… we have better things to do. Clear?”

The Draka around us nod silently. The younger Draka that Gwen has just publicly criticized is red in the face, but he bows his head to her in submission. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a look of regret in his eyes. I hope so, anyway, as I look him over. He’s young, has a lot to learn. And if we keep zapping the locals, the locals eventually won’t want to serve us very much. At least we’re not eating them. I bow my head a little to Gwen, too, and then walk away, seeking quiet and refuge in the religious building they’ve built for us. Or for the Star-ones, whichever. I just want away from everyone right now.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

**

The room’s quiet, empty… I wander through it, looking at the art work the humans here have done, to commemorate… what? Being fodder for these Star-ones? Having a religion that believes it’s ok to sacrifice young people to the Gods from the Sky? Some of the art is woven, and hangs on the walls. Images of human faces, clouds, sunlight. Some art is on wooden stands—the images made from hand-carved wood, stone, shells. More abstract, less directly related to their sacrifices. I don’t touch them, just look, my hands behind my back. I hear a soft footstep behind me and turn suddenly to find Veetek there.

“Overlord, is there anything…”

“No, honey. You just run along. Nothing I need except some quiet time.” I smile at her. Inside, my brain is churning. “Just time to think.”

Her face shows surprise. “You’re upset!”

“Well, yeah.” I stand there, facing her, looking down into her wide eyes. I find myself crossing my arms instead of holding them behind me. I wonder if she sees that as defensiveness? Their body language is different than what I’m used to with humans. “Yes. A little.”

“But… but… you’re…” she looks down, pauses, blushes.

“I’m what?”

“You’re an Overlord. You Rule us. Why would you be upset? The boy knew better than to raise his hand to one of you. We all do. We’ve been taught the Rules since we were born. So many generations… I don’t know what madness possessed him but I know what the consequences must be. All of us do…” She looks up into my face, serious now, eyes level.

“I don’t like having to kill people, whether or not I’m an Overlord.” Dangerous ground here; she’s programmed to see me as an infallible leader, and I’m showing that I’m just a regular gal. Or am I? I feel so confused. “I hate to see that. It upsets me. I wish it hadn’t happened.”

“Well, of course…” Veetek replies. “You tell us in the Rules that you want only the best for us. It’s right there, in the Sayings. But if we disobey, then we are punished. Don’t be sad, Overlord.”

It’s as simple as that, is it? I don’t think so. “You don’t feel any sort of resentment or anger or upset now? We just vaporized one of your tribe’s people.”

“You punished him for breaking the Rules.” Her voice’s firm, a True Believer if ever I heard one. No deep regrets, angst, worry. Just belief. 

“And the Rules are clear, and simple, aren’t they?” Gwen says, walking up to us, putting her arm across my shoulders. Veetek nods rapidly. Her pulse’s picked up, and so has her breathing. Gwen’s not masking her pheromones as much right now, and the human picks up on it subliminally, and reacts. I study Gwen’s face, trying to figure out what she’s going to tell me. Nothing doing; she has her slight smile on, and I can’t read past that.

“You run along now, get lunch ready for us.” Gwen dismisses Veetek with the ease of long command, and the young woman scurries away. Gwen turns back to me. “And we need to talk, don’t we?”

“I don’t know, Gwen. Do we? We’ve already discussed the ‘I must act like a Draka in public’ thing. I’m sorry if I bothered you interfering out there, but I couldn’t stand it. Enough is enough,” I swallow hard, tears rising. “Look, I’m just upset. I didn’t like seeing what happened out there.”

“And I did?”

“Part of you did, yeah. Part of you got off on it, on having power. Be honest.” I pull away from her a little, keeping my arms crossed, beginning to pace. “Be honest.”

“Having absolute power can be an aphrodisiac. But it’s also a heavy responsibility, one I take very seriously.” Her hands are on her hips, and her head follows me as I pace back and forth. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“Why did you have to…” I stop, shake my head. “I know, I know, he raised his hand to an Overlord. You’d have done the same thing on our timeline, right?” Gwen nods. “Ok, fine. I’m just upset. Gwen…” I sigh, not sure of what to say next, or how to say it. She waits, silently. I gather my courage and go on. “Ok, you want to talk, we’ll talk. I’ve been thinking. I’m trying to be a good Draka, but I’m not very good at it. And yes, I know, I made the choices—first to serve you, then to be a Metic. I did that. I’m not blaming anyone. I just… I’m not sure what I want.”

“It’s a bit difficult to go back on your word, once you’ve made certain choices.” Her voice is cool, flat.

“I’m not talking about going back on my word.” I stop pacing and stare at her. “You don’t understand. I’m questioning my whole… what the hell am I doing here? I thought I could make a difference.”

“And you have.”

“Yeah. And we’re still vaporizing people for making mistakes.” I meet her stare now. “We are. And we don’t have to.”

“By Draka law and custom, yes we do.” Gwen comes closer to me. “You know that, and why.”

“You don’t have to live in fear of an insurrection like your ancestors did, Gwen.”

“We don’t? We’re not a numerous people, nor do people like us much.”

“You’re just saying that. You know as well as I do that the Draka can pretty much manage humans, large numbers of humans, with very little intervention at all. You’ve been doing that on our timeline for years now.”

“And even there, we had to make some examples before the rest of the humans would pay attention and truly submit to us.”

Damn it. She’s right, of course. She always is. A low growl rises in my throat and I don’t try to hide it. Her ears move forward, hair bristling a little in an automatic Drakensis reaction. I keep my eyes on the floor for now. “I wish it could be different…”

“Why are you so angry?” She comes closer, holds my chin in her cupped hand, forcing me to look up into her leaf green eyes. “Erin, why? Why now?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“Answer my question.”

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure. And I know that’s hard for you to understand. You’re wired differently, even though I’ve had lots of biomods done. I’m still human, at the core. Sometimes it takes time for me to figure out why I’m angry about something. I’ve been trying to explain…”

She nods. “Yes, I do understand that. How about this… I send you back through the mole hole, you get some rest, and return when you feel… more like yourself?”

She’s sending me away? Shock ripples through me and I know she reads me like a book. “Gwen!”

“We have to have a stable base of operations here. I need personnel who are completely on board with that process. I think you’re stressed, tired, and confused. A break would be good for you.” Her voice’s gentle but firm. She’s already made up her mind, I realize; she’s just trying to tell me nicely.

“So if I act like a Doubting Thomas even in private, with you, that’s still verboten? I get sent home?” My voice shakes with anger and… a feeling of being let down, or something. Abandoned?

“Erin, I need you either completely ‘with it’ or resting up so you can be. It’s not something I personally like, but I think it’s best.” Archon Gwendolyn Ingolfsson looks at me, not my lover Gwen. “And yes, I’ve already decided. Intervening this morning was… acceptable… but not expected. And I need to know what to expect from you. You going off like a loose cannon doesn’t help me right now.”

I try to pull away but she tightens her grip, and I’m stuck there next to her, looking into her face. “Damn it, Gwen, let go.”

“I don’t want to.” The double layers of meaning strike both of us, and she smiles a little. “Ever.” But she loosens her grip and I back away.

“I know I love you. That’s one thing I do know.” I try to smile back. “Gwen, I’ve seen some miraculous things since the Arrival, and some terrible things. I’ve seen you do good things and some really reprehensible things. But I still love you.”

“Reprehensible?” She coolly raises one eyebrow.

“How about when you brought Jenny back after she suicided, then you… raped her, basically. In front of me.” My voice shakes. “That wasn’t so nice.”  
“I had to break her completely to my will; part of that was my fault; I thought I’d done that but apparently not well enough. And you needed to see what happens when you go against my will, against the Will of the Race.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I feel a shudder rumble through me. “Gwen, do you? You knew Jenny, really liked her…”

“Gods be damned, yes, I did. I knew her, liked her, enjoyed her… and was pissed as the seven hells when she tried to commit suicide because I wouldn’t let her emigrate. Not only did that hurt my feelings, it frustrated me and insulted me. It also told me I hadn’t been firm enough in the first place.” This time, anger flits across her face. “I try so hard with you humans, on this timeline, to not have to repeat the horrors I saw in my lifetime on the Prime Line. And then you… and then Jenny turns around and does something like that, to publicly challenge my rule? How do you think it made me feel? And do you think for one moment I enjoyed having to break her harshly?”

I just look at her. She comes closer. “Do you think that? That I’m a sadist?”

“No.” 

“Then why the hesitation?”

“Because… part of you does enjoy dominating.”

“Hells, I’m programmed that way, genetically.”

“Yes, but genes aren’t everything, Gwen, we make choices all the time with our own wills.” I sit down at the wooden table, on one of the benches. My head aches. “I made choices. I made them, and even though it lost me Alice, I still… even though it made me other-than-human, I did it. And I acknowledge that I made those choices, I don’t just say, ‘Oh, well, I’m human, can’t do anything else.’”

“You’re saying I’m trying to ‘cop a plea’?” She sits down next to me. “I want to understand, Erin, I really do, but this is very confusing to me. And I’m… I’m trying to be open with you, and you know how hard that is for me.”

“To be open with me?”

“With anyone. About things like this.”

“Oh.”

A silence settles over us. I sigh, and sigh again. She waits, looking at me. “Gwen… I thought maybe when we saw all the different mole holes, we could go somewhere and… the Domination wouldn’t have to come with us.”

“What, a vacation?”

“No, a new life.”

“You need to be very, very careful in what you’re saying right now, Erin. Even as my lover. I’m still Archon.”

“I know. I know that. I just hoped…”

“What? I live to serve the Race. So do you. I enjoy conquering. You know that and know why. Why in Wotan’s name would you think because we found a new timeline, things would be radically different? That all of a sudden, I’d just be Gwen, not an Archon, not a homo drakensis…” Her voice trails off thoughtfully. 

“Doesn’t part of you—a tiny part—just want that? To walk away from all this, and just be you?”

This time Gwen sighs. “There is a tiny part that says yes, but the rest of me, darling, says no. And that’s the part I’m listening to. And that’s the part you need to be able to deal with. And if you can’t, then I don’t know. I can’t force you… but I can send you away.”

“You mean, we’d break up?”

“Yes.”

Oh, hell. “After all we’ve been through?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because as I accept you, with all your weaknesses, and foibles, and good points, you need to be able to accept me. You give that lip service—in more ways than one—but down deep, I’m not sure you’ve ever completely submitted to me, or to the Domination. And yes, even we Draka submit in a way to the State. We devote our lives to it, to the idea of the spread of the Domination. And if you can’t be a part of that with me, then we don’t need to be together.”

I put my head in my hands, speechless. As I do so, Veetek arrives with lunch… she stops short, seeing us sitting the way we are, but Gwen waves her over. “Serve us here, wench. I’m famished.”

The girl comes over with her tray of food; I can see her feet approach through my fingers. I don’t sit up though, since I’m pretty darn sure Star-ones don’t have tears and puffy eyes in front of their worshippers. She silently and quickly sets out the food, plates, and utensils, and then retreats several steps from us. “Anything else, Overlords?”

“No, that’s fine. Leave us now.” Gwen’s already heaping a plate with chicken, rice, some sort of sauce… She sits down next to me again and begins eating.

“You can eat?” I whisper.

“Of course. I’m hungry, need the calories. You do, too. You should have some of this, it’s quite good.”

“You just told me we’re going to break up, and you can have culinary commentary just like that?!” I yell, standing up. “Can you possibly be a little colder, Gwen?”

She tosses her fork down onto her plate and stands up too. “I’m being practical on several issues. I need the food, so do you. It is good. I’m upset, as well, which burns even more calories. Cold? You want me to be cold to you? I’ve barely touched the surface of cold.”

“No, I don’t want you to be cold, damn it.” I’m still yelling. At this point, as angry as I am, I don’t care if the whole village is out there, taking notes. “I want us to be together. I want all this to stop. I want to know you love me. I want to live in a society where I don’t feel dirty, where I don’t have to watch public executions. Where I can speak my mind as a Citizen and not be thought of as a traitor. I know the Samothracians think that of me, I didn’t realize you did, too!!”

“Erin!” Gwen grabs for my shoulders and I back away, arms wind milling. 

“No, you’re not going to hug me close and use your god-damned pheromones to calm me down!”

“Erin Kane!” Gwen moves forward faster than I can back up and grasps my arms, pulling them down to my sides. She doesn’t pull me close, though; she holds me at arm’s length. Her face’s flushed, eyes wide. “Listen to me, you mad wench!”

“Wench? Wench? That’s all I’ve ever been…”I try to pull away. “I’ve never been a full person to you, have I?”

“I’ve told you that I love you, and I’ve only told a handful of people that in all my years. You’re more than a wench to me, now please, stop this. Erin, stop. Please, listen.” She shakes me, lightly. “I don’t consider you a traitor. I love you dearly. I don’t want us to break up, I just said if you can’t accept me like I accept you, then we should be apart.”

“Same thing…”

“No, damn it to hell, it’s not. You’re not going to twist my words. Does this go back to the fight with Yolande? What’s going on?”

“Let go.”

“No. Not until you answer me.”

“You… you…” I can’t finish, sobbing. “I just…”

“Darling, I love you. I always will. I was just trying to think of a way to help you settle down, by sending you back to our timeline for a bit. I didn’t think I was being cold. Listen, please. You’re a lovely woman, and I love you. Schalk loves you, and our children do. We’ve had children together, for Freya’s sake, Erin. I wouldn’t have done that if I thought bad things of you. And I don’t give a shit what the Samothracians think. Neither should you. You’re a Citizen of the Domination of the Draka. In many ways, you’re voicing some of the same concerns Eric von Shrakenberg did… read his journals. You’ll see. We can work this out, if you’ll stop acting like a mad thing and listen.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’. Do you hear me, hear what I’m saying? I thought I was helping, but obviously I wasn’t. You don’t have to go, Erin. We’ll work things out. I’ll be more patient if you’ll promise you’ll be the same.”

I manage to nod. She pulls me closer, stroking my hair, murmuring in Italian to me. She knows how that just melts me, part of my mind whispers. She’s just doing that because she knows it works, like when she strokes her horse after a rough ride… I shudder just a little bit. She notices, and makes me look at her face again. “What?”  
“You’re just saying those things to calm me down, like I’m one of your… pets,” I whisper.

“No.” Her voice is steady, very serious. “No. Not like that. I’m calming you down, woman to woman, lover to lover.” She kisses me then, slowly, steadily. I find myself returning it with interest. She sighs, happily this time, and continues to calm me down with her Italian and her kisses. She picks me up, cradles me, takes me over to the table, and sits us both down on the long wooden bench.

Slowly, deliberately, she picks up a piece of chicken, bites off a smaller piece and then feeds it to me with her fingertips. At first, I pull away… we’ve played with food before, but this is so different. She shakes her head no, then places the chicken morsel between my lips. I take it, chew, swallow. She hands me another, her fingers lingering on my mouth. I gasp this time, feeling the change in her grip, and wolf the chicken down. She was right, it is very good. And the touch of her hands on my body is even better.

Just when I think she’s going to just throw me on the table and take me, she stops. Kisses me tenderly. Then she stands, with me still in her arms, and walks to the bedroom area. I wrap my arms around her neck, snuggling, and then somewhere deep inside, suddenly, a dam breaks. I begin to sob, hard, wracking sobs that shake my whole body. 

Gwen continues to talk softly in Italian, calling me her sweet girl, her pretty one, and lays me on the bed. Instead of climbing on top, or pausing to strip us, she just lays down next to me, holding me in her arms still, as I continue to cry. She nestles my head against her neck and I surrender to the moment, letting it out. I’ve never cried like this before, not even when I lost Peter, or when Alice left me, or when our children died… I feel Gwen’s shoulders shake, too, and realize, deeply surprised, that she’s crying, too. Goodness, are we both verklempt?

I finally reach a place where I can breathe normally, and sit up, looking for something to wipe my face off with… she hands me a hand towel from the bedside, smiling gently at me. “Feel better?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes. I don’t do that very often… what was it you subvocalized, getting verklempt?” She sits up too, straightening her braid with both hands. “I think we needed it. I can think of other things we need, too…”

“But…” I skip off the bed. “I really am hungry now.”

“Oh really?” She lunges for me, catching me around the waist, tossing me back onto the bed. “And who said you could get up and eat?”

“Me!”

“Oh-ho! Saucy now, aren’t you?” She leans down and kisses me; this one’s different—harder, hotter. “Sit here. Wait.” She goes to the table, brings back a plate of food.

“Let’s share, wench.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

**

Nothing like a hungry Draka, I muse, looking down at Gwen’s sleeping face. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful… but she can be deadly. And she comes from a very different culture; I have to remember that. Sometimes it’s so hard to talk things over with her—we misunderstand basic concepts, words. But we do understand each other, and each other’s needs, especially in bed. Time has only increased that, not decreased it. I smile, brush my hair back from my face, stretch.

Gwen’s instantly awake—one of the things that’s so different from me, that’s for sure—and her bright green eyes lock onto mine. “Feeling better?”

“Maybe I just needed to eat…”I grin back.

“You certainly had an… appetite this afternoon.” She smiles whitely, her teeth bright in the semi-darkness. It’s gotten cloudy outside, and feels colder. I stroke a finger down her face.

“Yes, I did. And you did, too.” I lean down, kiss her. “Thanks for the talk, even though we got a little heated… thanks, Gwen. We’ll work things out, and I promise, I won’t run around pulling my hair out in existential angst.” I sit up, start looking for my uniform. “Really. No drama.”

“You humans and your dramas…” she sighs, tossing me my uniform from her side of the bed, as she steps into her boots. Her walking blacks climb up over the boots, fitting her form perfectly, shimmering slightly. I let mine do the same, pull my hair back into a pony tail.

“Now, come on, be fair, you Draka have your own little special moments…” I laugh, then grow serious. “We all do, Gwen.”

“I know, I know. But now it’s back to work, no rest for the wicked.” She tosses the empty plate onto the wooden table; I’m impressed. Most Draka are perfectly content to let things lie where they land, when they’re done with them, knowing a Servus will come along to tidy things up. Gwen notices that I noticed, and winks at me. “You can occasionally teach an old dog a new trick or two…”

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.” I walk over to the door leading outside. “Interesting. I thought it was all pre-programmed, set in stone…”

“Don’t tempt me to teach you a new thing or two…” chuckles my lover. “I can, you know.”

“Oh, I know!” I open the door. “Wow, look, snow! I thought it felt colder when we woke up.” The village is covered with at least two to three inches of snow all ready, and more’s falling. The flakes are thick, coming down fast. The sounds of the village are muted, muffled by the snowfall. It looks pretty. And the circle of rocks where the poor boy died earlier… they’re covered with snow now, not visible. I sigh, thinking about it, wishing it could have been different.

“Angst?” Gwen says, quietly. She stands just behind me, looking out over my shoulder at the village. People hurry by, wrapped in blankets and woolen jackets, bringing in the last bits of wood for their evening fires, herding sheep to the main corral for the night. Wood smoke filters to me, and I inhale. It reminds me of home.  
“Just a tad. I’m not promising I won’t feel it, I just promise no screaming, fainting, running around in circles…”

“Well, all right then.” Gwen looks up at the sky, considering. “Let’s go over to our command center, it’ll be warmer there. This may turn into a blizzard; it’s going to last for quite some time.”

We walk over to the Draka command center, a War Hawk interceptor which has been sent down from one of the orbital battle platforms. It sits just outside the village proper, camouflaged. We can see it, but the humans have serious trouble finding it. Old habits die hard. Inside, it’s warmer, but not too much, since Drakas have increased metabolisms, making their body temps run high. They like it cooler than humans do. Since I’ve been modified, sometimes it feels like I have hot flashes, but menopause isn’t the issue. My increased metabolism, and body heat, are. But it feels good inside, less dank than the religious building in the village.

Various Draka recline in their couches, faces blank as they process commands and data; more orbital stations are due to come in soon, so we can cover the entire surface of the planet surveillance-wise. More Draka; a few more modified humans like me… no Servus yet, not until Gwen authorizes it. I think she will soon, just for the comfort effect. Draka created the Servus, and don’t necessarily need them, but certainly enjoy them and feel more comfortable having their needs met by homo servus than by homo sapiens. Gwen’s tried to explain it to me, the sweetness and yielding of a Servus, and now I think I understand better… having begun to explore my own ability to be a dominant.

“Any major news from our timeline?” Gwen sits down on a couch, eyes clouding a bit as she begins to update herself in a massive way with the recent developments. “Ah, yes… everything’s on schedule. Now, that means something will go wrong…”

I nod. “Murphy’s law. What I’m curious about is this: who the hell are the Star-ones, and do we really want to meet them? I don’t think we want to have dinner with them, that’s for damn sure.” I sit down on a couch myself, command my transducer to update me. Data flows in faster than I can consciously process it, leaving me feeling like I’ve eaten too much mentally. I rub my forehead slowly. “Yolande wants to come in on the next ship.”

“Yes, I saw that. That’s fine .We’ve rebuilt the platform where the massive mole hole is, and I think things are stable enough to bring more folks through. I do need to sit down and talk with you and her about how to approach the Samothracians. I don’t want them to think we’re violating our treaty agreement with them.” Gwen sounds serious. “Even if, technically, we are.”

“We are?”

“Yes, part of the agreement was that we’d discuss expansion plans and dealing with indigenous humans with them, before we actually did anything. And we’ve moved a bit more quickly than that, here. But I think I can work with Packard, and others, to smooth things over. After all, we apparently have an unlimited number of mole holes to explore now.”

“Hmm.” I think for a long moment. “You’ll have to do some major talking there, Gwen. You know how prickly they are about the human issue.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” She’s silent for a long moment, apparently in a conference with someone. I know better than to intrude, and wait until she looks over at me again. I have plenty to process myself. She finally sits up and shakes her head slightly. Her eyes look a bit strained now but we all look that way when we’ve been hooked into the Draka version of the Internet. “Tamarindus has some good ideas. And so does Schalk.”

“Are they coming over?”

“No, not yet.” She smiles at me. “They’re wanting to, but I want people I know in charge over there, while I’m over here. Richardson wants to come over, though. We may allow it.”

I wonder why she didn’t include me on the conversation? I am her adjutant. I shrug, mentally. I’m still only a Metic, so there are some things I’m not included on… but I wonder if she was telling them about my hissy fit. I know she’ll tell Schalk. I don’t know if she’ll tell Tamarindus, and hope she doesn’t tell Yolande. Not yet, not until Yolande and I can work out a relatively stable friendship. We’ve just started, ironically by trying to beat the crap out of each other. I look over at Gwen, considering, and then send her a private message. “Why didn’t you include me on your talk with Tamar and Schalk?”

She frowns a little and replies, also in private mode. “Because Tamar had sent the request just to me. And Schalk was right there, available, so we included him as well. You were busy. And no, I didn’t discuss our recent escapade.”

“Sorry, just had to wonder.” In my private reply back, I try to include a smile. She accepts it, sends one back.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” She stands up, as a young Draka comes up to her with an actual, physical question, and the woman, an engineer, walks Gwen over to the display screen, shimmering along one bulkhead. They’re instantly lost in a deep discussion of overlaying defensive layers and offensive capabilities of the orbital platforms, and I sit back on my couch, checking through my transducer on Yannan and Sara…

**

The Council of Nine sits around the table. Aides kneel behind Draka, or sit behind Samothracians, taking notes, finding information for their respective officials. The Nine are headed by Gwen, who sits in a relaxed pose (although I know from talking with her beforehand, that’s a pose, not how she actually feels, but Draka are very good at masking how they feel, I’ve found). I sit at her right hand; Emily Richardson sits next to me and Admiral David Packard is next to her. Schalk, Tamarindus, Yolande, and Patrick are next; the lone Samothracian next to Gwen is new, and I don’t know her well. 

Of course, all the data we have on her has been forwarded to me in a report, but that still doesn’t count as “knowing” her to me. I have to sit down with someone and talk with them face to face to start understanding where they’re coming from, and I haven’t had time to do that yet with Admiral Grandon. Mary Grandon, one of the youngest and most ambitious Samothracian admirals I’ve met so far…

“Thank you all for meeting here on such short notice,” Gwen says, her voice silky-smooth. People around the table nod, or look up from their data links, and focusing on her. It’s impossible not to. I can’t, and I’m used to her; people who aren’t accustomed to Draka tend to be almost hypnotized by their presence, their aura. Even Samothracians feel it, although they have a historical reason to hate the Draka more than anything else. Luckily, these Earth/2 Samothracians have pretty much—although not completely—moved past the historical hatred and tried to keep the détente going. It’s been interesting, that’s for sure.

Gwen continues. “As you all know by now, we’ve discovered several… anomalies. One, the self-perpetuating mole hole. We’re still studying how it works, and certainly appreciate anything your team,” and she nods towards David Packard, the highest ranking Samo among us, “can provide in terms of analysis. We also sent teams through this mole hole and found… more.”

“And you’ve already begun colonizing, Archon?” Admiral Grandon speaks up, setting down her cup of tea precisely on the table. “Already? Without consulting us?”

Gwen nods, not even turning her head towards the human. “Yes, we have. We found a timeline that has apparently had contact with a civilization that has air power, if not space capabilities, and they accepted us as stand-ins for those contacts. We’ve begun a small settlement project there, but under the advice of my Archonal team, we’re limiting it, and not impacting the local population unduly.”

I wince a little at that, remembering the boy being incinerated by the orbital battle platform. He’d raised his hand to a Draka, and therefore had to die, but I sure wish it could’ve been different. Emily notes the flicker of distress across my face, and makes a tiny nod across the table to my son, Patrick. He just looks back at us impassively, but I can see the spark in his eyes. Oh, no, he’s not going to bring up human liberation again, not here, is he? I grind my teeth a little in frustration, and then school my features to a studied attentiveness.

“Admittedly, we’d have preferred it if you’d waited, Archon,” Packard says, quietly. “But… that aside. We can talk about that later. We should deal with what we have just before us, now, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course,” Gwen smiles. “We need your help in studying the anomalous mole hole. It could be extremely beneficial to understand it, given that we think—no, we know—that the Bugs will make another strike on us. They may have been beaten back, but they’re not out of the picture completely.”

“It would be very good to have a back door, so to speak, if the Bugs attacked again…” Schalk agrees.

Yolande sits up straighter than she’s been… Draka like to lounge… and clears her throat softly. “Perhaps we could find a mole hole that would allow us to destroy these things before they get as bothersome as they are now. There are many possibilities here, and we shouldn’t just focus on defense.”

I notice the Samothracians stiffening their postures as Yolande Ingolfsson speaks; even though this is a new, reconstituted Yolande, they still remember the Draka who basically fired the first weapon of the Final War. Remember, and resent. Emily speaks first. “Sometimes the best offense is a good defense.”

“We could debate that all night long, Captain Richardson.” Yolande steeples her hands. “But that’s not the point of this discussion, is it, Archon?”

Gwen shakes her head no slightly. “No. It isn’t. But Emily does have a good point, as you did. And Schalk. We can explore both offensive and defensive plans, if we work as a team. And I expect that—we all work as a team. Yes?” Gwen looks around the table, cataloging the responses, an eyebrow coolly raised. Nods greet her. No one’s willing to openly confront her, that’s for sure.

I speak up. “Our teams have catalogued over 350 different mole holes so far, with basic probe data back on over 80 percent of those. Some of the probes didn’t return, and we’ve marked those mole holes as danger spots. There are many, many more—we’re not sure how many more—to explore. If we could have some assistance from the Samothracian side, that would massively increase our ability to catalogue these things. I’d be more than happy to help coordinate that.” I sit back in my chair, run a hand through my ash blonde hair. “Yannan, Rosta and Sara have been working overtime, as well as about thirty others from the Domination, and they deserve a big thank you from all of us. You all have the data.”

“Yes, indeed!” Admiral Packard grins at me. “Excellent work, I must say. Archon, you should commend your people. And we’re more than happy to help catalogue, especially if we limit things right now to probe analysis only. Let’s corral our resources. We… we have some news from out our way, that we didn’t want to share over the Net.”

“David, I really don’t think…” Grandon looks like she could bust a blood vessel all of a sudden. What in the world?

Packard cuts her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “It’s a command decision, for the best of the coalition. It’s already been decided, Mary. So please, allow me continue.”

The woman sits back in her high backed chair in a huff. So that’s how it is with her. Hmm. Maybe I won’t be spending time over cups of coffee with her, talking about her favorite books or artists. David spears her with a look from his eyes, cold blue now like the Northern Sea. “As I was saying… we have… picked up on some activity in a certain region, indicating probable Bug activity nearby. We discovered it at approximately the same time we knew you’d had issues with this location.”

Gwen sends a shielded transducer message to me and Schalk. See, I told you they knew already. We’d been debating with her as to whether or not the Samothracians already knew about the never-ending mole hole and that we tried to shut it down with a tiny tactical nuke; I wasn’t sure, but Schalk felt sure they might know about the nuke but not why we used it. Gwen was sure that they’d noticed both the energy signature from the nuke as well as the energy footprint of the mole hole, and she was right.

“What kind of activity?” Gwen asks.

“Mole holes flashing in and out, billionth-of-a-second range. Like they’re testing. And we know it’s Bugs, not Primeline Draka, Samothracians, or something else, since occasionally the Bugs get a bit messy, and fire one of themselves through the hole. We’ve found… remnants.” Packard looks serious now, worried.

“And the frequency has increased since your team found this… thing,” Emily says.

“So you’re thinking an attack’s imminent?” Schalk looks around the table.

David nods. “Yes. And that’s the other thing we wanted to bring up with you. Evacuation plans. At least for some of the humans, Servus and Draka. That’s another reason I’m not too upset about your premature colonization, Archon. We may need the base. Soon.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

**

I sit back, rub my eyes, sigh. The planning for the evacuation of certain areas of our Earth has been exhausting, even with Draka technology, and Samothracian assistance. Hours and hours have passed, and I’m amazed at the number of people—humans as well as others—we’ve moved from our Earth to tent camps here on this planet. Efficient, yet not very home-like; very basic amenities but better than being on Ground Zero when the Bugs land. 

The evacuation was resisted a bit by some, especially some Draka, but overall, everyone remembers what the Bugs were like when we fought them last time, and know that this time, it’ll be worse. Most resistance was mere pro forma. And of course, no humans under Draka rule would openly resist… there were some slowdowns, but nothing overt, thank God. Gwen’s been tense, as have the other top Draka, and the Samothracian leadership hasn’t been a bundle of joy, either. I feel trapped between them, and wonder if Patrick or any of the other modified humans feel the same way. I’ll have to ask sometime, when things aren’t so chaotic.

Thousands of people have been uprooted… only one suitcase or bag per person, and they were allowed to bring household pets. That eased things a lot initially. When the Bugs broke through, out near Titan, people began to scramble to evacuate. Still, the orderly process continued, and we got so many out. I know the numbers are there, but just the sheer visual impact of the huge tent camps is stunning. The Space Force folks and the Samothracian Navy held off the initial attack, but Gwen and Schalk are convinced it was just a probe, nothing major. It was major enough—dozens of human and Draka casualties, hard letters to write to grieving families. But the Bugs were destroyed. Tamarindus and her technical people have been analyzing the remnants…

“Overlord?” A quiet voice behind me makes me jump and turn around quickly. I’d finally pried myself out of my couch, and was resting, looking out over one of the camps from the Command Center I’m currently in. Wasn’t expecting anyone coming into my office…

“Yes?” I put a smile into the question, knowing better than to spook a Servus or human servant. Takes too damn long to calm them down again. I look into the darkened room with eyes which see as well as a Draka, much better than a human or a homo servus. The young man’s standing there, a tray in his arms, and he looks nervous. Human, maybe 20, 18 years old. Trying a brave little mustache, too.

He clears his throat. “Um, I was… that is, they said…um…”

“Just put the tray on the desk, right there. Thanks for bringing me some food!” I walk over, look at the dishes on the tray. Good, solid food—roast beef, salad, fresh baked bread, some sort of pasta dish—it’s excellent. A decanter of red wine on the side, and some water. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I nibbled on a spoonful of the pasta; now I know I’m famished. Hours of data processing will do that to you. 

He stands back, a respectful distance, and hesitates. “Um…”

“Mmh-hhmm?” I murmur through a mouthful of roast beef, pausing my knife and fork.

“Is there… ah, well…anything else? Overlord?” He’s blushing now, I notice; I can see the patterns of heat on his face. I pause for a longer moment, taking his scent over the wonderful fresh food smells. He’s turned on, but very, very nervous. Oh, dear.

“Well, not right now. I’m a bit too busy. You know how it is… but thanks. Please, tell the kitchen staff they outdid themselves. This is excellent.” I gesture at the tray of food. “And thank you. Maybe some other time, young ‘un.”

“Ah… um…” He hesitates still, which is unusual. I stop eating, look at him with full attention now.

“Really, I’m fine. The food is fine. Thanks.” Hmm. His scent is a little off, I realize on some level, and adrenaline starts to build in my system. This is odd.

He shuffles from one foot to the other, like a nervous adolescent human might. But then, in an instant, his body flashes toward me in a rush. Damn it! 

There’s a dull glint of something in his hand, metallic, and I have just fast enough reflexes—thank you, augmentation team—to push myself backwards, knocking my chair and myself onto the deck. He trips over the chair legs but still keeps coming toward me, a wooden grin locked on his face. His eyes are blank, lost, and beads of sweat cover his face. 

I take stock of all that in the milliseconds it takes me to leap from my prone position to one on the other side of the wooden table, grabbing my steak knife as I vault over the now-forgotten meal. Hell, if he was going to kill me, why not just try to poison me? He turns sharply and lunges at me again, his right arm extended, that dull shine at his fingertips. Well, well—I think that’s what he’s trying to do. I lean back, away from his hand, and as it passes me, I grab it, slam it to the table, then insert the steak knife into his forearm, effectively nailing him to the wood beneath.

He gasps, and tries to wrench his arm loose. I press down on it, wanting to keep that dull metal in his hand—a small set of what look like brass knuckles dipped in an oily gray paint, as far away from me as I can. Meanwhile, my transducer’s sent out an alert; if it’s still working, I should only have to play keep-away for a few moments. But they seem to be awfully long moments. He stops trying to pull his arm out from under my hand and knife, and grabs the wine decanter, smashing it on the side of the table to create a nifty, sharp little bastard of a weapon in his left hand.

Wine spatters over us—my lips notice the nice vintage; Gwen has an excellent taste in wines, among other things—and drips off my face. His face’s still blank, but sweaty; his eyes are still dull and lost-in-space. His scent’s definitely off, that’s for sure, but I can’t place why or what’s making it so. He crashes the sharp glass weapon down on my right arm, and I yell with the pain. 

But I don’t let go of his arm. He slashes again, and I punch him, hard, in the face with my left hand. The boy staggers back, blood pouring from his nose and mouth; I heard the crackle of bone breaking when I hit him. My right arm’s already starting to control the blood loss; the augmentation included not only molecular body armor under my skin, but additional, faster clotting abilities in my blood system. It still hurts like a bitch, though.

The steak knife’s pulled down through his arm; I felt it grate on bone as it did so. Any normal human would be either screaming or unconscious by now. With a sinuous movement, one very unlike a normal human, he bucks back to the table, and yanks his arm free, steak knife and all. I try to keep the arm under my hand, but the blood from both of us is making things very hard to hold onto. So far, we’ve been pretty much silent—my yell, his gasping the only noises beyond the breaking glass—and I know the office is sound-proof. Damn it, where is everyone?

Some help would be nice. As my hand slides free of his, I avoid the dull metal weapon very carefully.

His right arm hangs down loosely by his side; he drops the broken wine decanter from his left hand, grabs the weapon from his right as a replacement, and staggers toward me, coming around the corner of the table, fast. I kick a chair into his path, backing up, wishing I had my layer knife with me. Gwen was right, I should always carry something. I’ll have to tell her that, she’ll enjoy it. He slashes at me again with the weapon, and I toss the tray of food into his face.

The floor’s slick with food, wine and now blood, but I know my boots will grip; his sandals, not so much. And the knee only bends one way naturally… I kick forward, aiming at his left kneecap, and connect with a meaty thud, followed by a sickening crack. His knee buckles backward, and his dull eyes open wide with pain and shock. He falters, his footing unsure, and he tries to hold onto the table edge with his left hand, the weapon still in it. I kick again, this time into his gut, but he’s fast, and still somehow in the fight, since as he doubles over, he brings his left hand in, almost cutting me with the gray metal edges. It slices my right boot, but doesn’t reach the skin beneath.

The force of my kick, though, propels him backward, onto his ass, sliding on the messy floor in a heap. I follow him, ready to deliver a killing blow, even though part of me winces at the thought. The rest of me is in a red blur of anger and adrenaline, though, and blood lust pounds in my ears. I’ve felt this a few times before, but never anything like this, never anything this strong. This guy tried to kill me, and I’m going to return the favor… 

He scrambles backward, right leg moving like a piston, left arm scrabbling along the floor, through the remains of my dinner. He looks up at me, pupils wide, face still oddly blank. But his lips curl back from his teeth in a snarl… the young man tries to launch himself toward me, his weapon slashing out again at my legs. I jump back just in time, but in doing so, trip over the chair I tossed at him earlier. I fall backwards, but manage to spring back to my feet in a blur of motion, moving backwards as fast as I can.

Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of motion; my transducer stops my initial reaction of throwing the chair at the blur. The machine in my head tells me the blur’s a Draka—in fact, visual and scent recognition quickly inform me it’s Yolande—and before I can redirect the chair at the human on the floor, she’s there, her layer knife flashing in the dim light like a line of diamonds in the night. There’s a gasp from the human and then a wavering moan… his breathing sounds labored, and I hear Yolande sigh deeply in satisfaction. I scent blood, more than what was there before.

More people come into the room—lights coming up—and Draka, as well as a couple of Samothracians, are there suddenly. The boy continues to moan, and breathe raggedly, and I hear the Draka around me growling in anger. I am, too, but try to repress it as best I can. “Thanks, Yolande…”

“You owe me one…” The blonde woman says quietly, flicking blood from her blade, her foot on the human’s left arm, which is now severed from his body.   
I look down at his face, seeing blood trickle through his brave little mustache, watch as blood runs from his nose and out of his mouth. His eyes are still unseeing, or seeing something we can’t… I shudder to think what he’s thinking or feeling now. In fact, I feel pretty shaky, and turn one of the tossed-around chairs over and sit down. Yolande wolf-grins at me, kicks the arm over toward one of the Draka Security Force people, then walks over to put a hand on my shoulder.

She looks back at the young Security Directorate Draka. “Be careful with that weapon, it looks like it’s covered with some sort of… fluid. And you,” she looks down at me. “Have this boot taken off, carefully, as well. It’s been cut with that weapon.” Yolande squeezes my shoulder gently. “And control your breathing, as you’ve no doubt been trained.”

“Yaz, mistiss,” I mutter, but do so. I feel better in a moment or two. A very nervous Samothracian comes over and gingerly removes my boot from my right foot; it feels odd to have one boot on and one boot off in a blood-covered room. The Samo bags the boot and gives it to one of the Security Directorate people. They’re also gathering around the dying human; I watch as they apply a medcomp to his body, stabilizing it so they can interrogate him at their leisure. I don’t want to know about that, that’s for sure; my stomach heaves for a moment. I’ll be damned if I barf in front of all these people. 

“Here, bring her some water,” Yolande orders someone, who almost immediately returns with some ice water in a glass. I sip it slowly, nodding thanks to Yolande. The room falls silent as the Security folks remove the young man on a stretcher, his blood-covered body shaking with shock but being kept alive by the medcomp. 

Someone throws his severed arm on top of him as they leave; it makes a sickening thump as it lands on his chest. The smell of roast beef, blood and wine fill the room and I tell my body to filter the scents until my stomach feels better. There’s another reason to be glad about the augmentation, I think and shudder a little more.

“You all right? Did the weapon touch you at all?” Yolande squats down next to me, looking into my face from under her blonde bang. “Erin?”

“I’m… fine.” I straighten up a little. “Just… I’m not built to enjoy this. What the hell? What would possess him to do that? What’s going on?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m just glad I could help you. I’m sure we’ll know more, once the SD gets through dissecting him.”

“God, I don’t even want to know about that…” I swallow hard. Gwen’s voice comes through on my transducer, loud and strong and angry. Erin? I’m on my way!

I message back to her: I’m fine. Yolande’s here; SD took the murderous little bastard delivery boy away. I’m fine. Please come soon.

Yolande nods, apparently talking with Gwen as well. She stands, putting her arm around my shoulders, hugging me to her gently. She sheathes her layer knife with ease, one-handed, and strokes my hair. “Sssa, it’s all right, Erin. Gwen will be here in a moment. I’ll keep you company until she gets here.”

I lean into her embrace, the adrenaline running out of my body, replaced by… exhaustion. “Good lord, I’m worn out.”

“Well, you had quite a bit of excitement, my girl,” says Gwen, coming into the room. She glances around, a snarl escaping from her at the territorial and personal violation of our space, and then comes over to us. “Thank you, Ma. I appreciate you helping here.”

“Not a problem. No one gets to beat up on Erin except me, right, Erin?” Yolande grins down at me. I smile weakly back. She gently pats my back, looking up and over my head to Gwen. I know they’re talking via transducer, most likely, but I just let my head sink back down into my hands. I’m overwhelmed.

“I’ll take her to our quarters… get her cleaned up,” Gwen says quietly to her mother. “Keep up with the SD team, would you, and report back to me as soon as you hear anything. I want to get to the bottom of this as fast as we possibly can. We don’t need assassination attempts as well as Bug probes, and dealing with the evacuations is enough work for Erin to be worrying about now, anyway.” Gwen slips her hands under my arms, standing me up with minimal effort on my part. She pulls me close, stroking me, nestling my head under her chin. “Come on, Erin, let’s go, we’ll get you all settled down, promise.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as they get anything coherent, Gwen.” Yolande nods at both of us, and strides from the room. Gwen and I follow, although more slowly and a bit more awkwardly, since I only have one boot on. Gwen looks down, noticing my gait, and chuckles; she picks me up in her arms, cradling me, and we make better progress to our quarters...


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

**

“The report’s back…”Gwen murmurs, as she massages my shoulders. I’ve showered and had a stiff shot of whiskey, and am now lying on our bed, Gwen doing her magic to my back.

“That didn’t take… long,” I reply, rolling over. “Do I want to hear it? I noticed I wasn’t included on the message…” I sit up, pulling the covers up over my body, watching Gwen’s face carefully. It’s more masked than usual, her eyes not sparkling leaf green but a more moody, darker shade.

She tosses her braid over one shoulder, sits back, folding her legs compactly underneath her. “It doesn’t take long to get information now. Not like the old times. And no, you weren’t included on the original message over the Net. Only Schalk, Tamarindus, Yolande and I were.”

“Oh.”

Gwen shakes her head a tiny bit, meaning no. “Erin, it’s not that we don’t trust you. But what we learned is rather… disturbing, and affects people close to you.”  
Shit. Now what? “OK, just tell me. Enough dancing around...”

“Erin…” She cups my chin, making me look directly into her eyes, holding my gaze steady. “Erin, it involves Patrick.”

“No!” I try to pull away, but her grip keeps my head where she wants it. “No, I don’t believe that. It’s a mistake, has to be!”

“No, it’s not.” Her voice is calm, and I hear and feel the harmonics of Command coming through. My body tells me her pheromones are working hard to keep me calm, too, and not quite succeeding. “Erin, my Erin, listen to me. This is beyond what you can control. It’s not your fault. But it’s going to be hard.”

“Gwen… Please, let go of my chin. I’ll be ok. Really. Just tell me what the hell is going on. We have enough to deal with, don’t we, with the Bugs, and the evacuations, and the new mole hole? What’s going on?”

My lover and the Archon of my solar system relents, and lets go of my chin, stroking it gently as she does with one long forefinger. “All right. Erin, the interrogation was very, very thorough. Very in-depth. Before the subject was… euthanized, he told us everything he could possibly tell us. And part of that involves Patrick, and a small group of augmented humans. Apparently, they aren’t satisfied with the current pace of their progress towards… freedom… and decided this was the opportune time to make a stand.” She sighs deeply and stands up, her muscles moving silkily beneath her tanned skin. Gwen stretches, her arms reaching high above her head, and then sits back down on the side of the bed.

“I just can’t believe it…” I shake my head. Patrick and I have had our differences about our roles as humans with augmented powers. But we’ve never come to blows… and I thought we could always talk things out. Always. “With some interrogations, the… subject… will say whatever they think will save them, Gwen. You know that.”  
“Not under our techniques. And you know that, my girl.” Her voice is cool now, distant. Remote. Professional. This is the Archon talking, where the life of a human subject under the Domination is not worth shit if they’ve raised their hand to the Overlords, just like when the boy on this planet tried to strike a Draka. He was incinerated, and I’m sure the boy they just interrogated is dust now, too.

“What did he say, exactly? Or am I allowed to know?” I’m shivering now, wondering what’s going to happen. I’m a Metic, and so is Patrick, but the Domination takes insurrection of any sort—even the hint of such—terribly seriously. Their history has taught them to do so and they haven’t forgotten, ever.

Gwen’s still for a long moment. Then she takes me by the hand, leading me from the bed to the table in our quarters, where we sit down next to each other. She gazes very straight into my eyes. “You’re going to have to be strong. I know he’s your son, and I know you love him. But you’re also a Citizen of the Domination of the Draka. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“It means…” I swallow hard, looking at her, watching me. “It means I have to make a choice again, between loyalty to you and the State, or loyalty to Patrick and his human friends.”

“Correct.”

“Fine. You know I’ll never waiver from my viewpoints.”

“You’ll need to be more specific than that, before we can talk more in depth.”

God, she’s so cold. I shiver, both figuratively and literally. “Gwen, please…”

“No, Erin. I’m sorry, we have to hear it from you, analyze it… then decide what we’re going to tell you.” Her hands are resting on the table, one on top of the other, and she’s very still.

“Ah… Gwen, before, when Patrick pushed me to rebel, when we discovered our additional abilities after the augmentation… I said no. I’ll always say no. That’s not the way to work things out. When humans tried to attack you and others, Peter gave his life to protect your child. I’d do the same. I said I’d serve you, and I meant it then. Now, even though I’m a Metic citizen, I still mean it… I’ll serve you, and the State, as long as…”

“There are no conditional clauses, Erin.”

“You didn’t let me finish, Gwen.”

She steeples her hands. “Finish.”

“As long as I live.” I sit back in my chair, sweat beading my forehead. “I know I don’t agree with Patrick and his friends; I know they want things to go faster. But I never, ever thought they’d do something to me. Or to anyone.”

“You’re naïve.”

“Maybe,” I nod. “But I always believe in the best about people.”

“Like I said, you’re naïve.” Gwen smiles a little, a slight curve of her lips, and I relax a tiny bit. “But that’s not always a bad thing. We balance each other well.”

“Thanks. Now can you tell me more?”

She hesitates a moment. “Most of us think so…”

“Yolande doesn’t, does she?” I shake my head. “I don’t know how to get through to her…”

“It’s not Yolande who’s hesitating, Erin.” She sighs, deeply. “It’s… me. I’m the one who’s not sure how much to tell you. At least not now.”

“Gwen! But you know me best of all…” Despite my best efforts, a tear wells up in both my eyes. My voice quivers and I cough to try to cover it, knowing that she’s reading me like a book, and that my effort is a waste of time. But I do it anyway, and take the moment to try to think more clearly. “Gwen, why?”

“You’ve got a lot on your hands right now. I’d really prefer to deal with this, my way, and let you know when it’s over. I’d like to keep you focused on the evacuations, and developing contingency plans for the Bug attack. We know it’s coming, just not when.”

“How can I focus on that when I know you’re… dealing… with my son?”

Gwen stands up, begins to pace slowly. “Erin, that’s part of it. You’re going to have to… let go. You can’t consider him your son at this point, not if what we’ve learned is completely true. It seems Patrick was instrumental in setting up the attempted assassination. And you’ll have to process that. I’m just not sure you’re strong enough, darlin’.”

Oh My God. She’s telling me Patrick’s going to die. She’s telling me Patrick tried to kill me? My stomach lurches, and I quickly rise, run to the bathroom, ordering the door shut as soon as I get past it. The small amount of dinner I managed to eat is quickly history, and I crouch by the commode, wishing I could just crawl away and die somewhere. Patrick’s all I have left of my past, my best friend… he’s part of me, and how can I just sell him out? Am I just being crazy? Shouldn’t I side with fellow humans, instead of Draka? What am I? Alice told me she didn’t think I was human any more, and maybe she was right. I don’t know…What would Peter do?

He’d look marvelous, that’s what. Hell’s bells. I stand up, wash my mouth out, then wash my face, fix my hair… order a new pair of walking blacks from the dispenser and quickly dress. Somehow, having clothes on makes a person feel a bit more secure when talking with someone else… at least when you’re from my culture. Draka don’t care a bit about being naked, but it always makes me feel a bit more vulnerable. I’m barefoot, though, and enjoy the feel of the warmth from the deck soaking up into my toes as I walk back out to Gwen.

“Sorry about that,” I say, quietly.

She nods; she’s sitting back at the table again, and makes a gesture for me to sit back down next to her at the head of the table. There are two glasses of water waiting for us, ice clinking in the fogged crystal glasses. “Sit down, Erin, and we’ll talk.”

I sit down, take a sip of water. “Ok.”

“The interrogation was very complete and thorough, as I said. You can watch it if you’d like, but I don’t think you’d care to. I can provide you a transcript if that would be easier to process. You’re more squeamish than I am.” She sips her water, waiting for me to reply.

“Ah, yes, I am. Transcript will be fine…” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my transducer tells me the transcript is there. I begin to read through it mentally, trying to jump past the worst parts. I think Gwen’s edited it, too… “Did you clean this up?”

“Yes, a bit,” Gwen replies. “Nothing important was removed. Only things like incoherent screams, begging, etc., etc….”

“How can you be so…” I shake my head. “Sorry. That’s not relevant right now. I see where he says Patrick and his little group of friends trained him for this… God, it’s just so hard to believe, Gwen.”

“Yes, it was a bit of a shock. But all the monitors said the human was telling the truth, and the interrogation team had plenty of experience, too. So I don’t think we’re seeing a false positive here. Patrick was involved. I think he’s been angrier at you than you ever knew.” Gwen looks at me, hard. “Sometimes, it’s hard to see that as a parent. But as I said, you’ll have to step away from that role and into the role of my assistant, and a loyal Citizen.”

“I know.” I rub my forehead. The details… the meetings they had, what was said, how the poison was delivered to the boy, how they basically brainwashed him… Patrick’s name keeps coming up over and over. I feel sick. “I know. And it looks bad. Have you spoken with Patrick yet?”

“Not yet. He’s in custody, though, as are his friends.”

“On our Earth?”

“Yes,” Gwen says. “Security Directorate picked them up, and Schalk’s in charge of that detail. I’m ordering the interrogations, Erin. I have to get to the bottom of this, and if it’s insurrection, I’m going to exterminate it. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Please… let me talk with Patrick…”

She shakes her head no, firmly. “No. I’m sorry, but no. You’ve done your best, and he’s continued down the road he’s chosen. He has to face the consequences. We’re going to keep this quiet, but I’m going to deal with this the way you know I have to. And that doesn’t involve you talking with him. He’s already tried to kill you once, and I’m not allowing him a second chance.”

He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… “Gwen, he wouldn’t try that, not in custody. Maybe he could tell me what’s really going on, why this is happening, and we could work things out…”

“No, Erin. End of discussion about that.” Her voice’s stern. The Archon again. “I’ll keep you posted, if you want me to, about what happens. If it turns out he’s not directly involved with the assassination attempt, and there’s been some unusual circumstance, I’ll be merciful. Otherwise, he’ll be euthanized. Even then, I’ll be merciful, since he’s your son. I won’t have him staked.”

God. “Ah… thank you.” Inside, a silent scream builds. My son!

She leans over, takes my hands in hers. “I wish I could make this easier, but as Archon, I can’t. And you know that, and thank you for not asking me to do so…”

“I know, I know.” I squeeze her hands, and she returns the pressure. “Gwen… just let me know the outcome. That’s all I ask. I’ll keep working on the evacuations, and plans. That’s something I can do. I can’t help Patrick if he’s gotten himself into something this messy. I don’t understand why he’d do it, and don’t understand why they wanted to kill me… but I do understand we have a whole mess of folks here who need help, and the Bugs aren’t going to wait forever. Please, be merciful, no matter what. He’s all I have left of Peter.”

“Erin, I know,” Gwen says, very softly. “I know… I’ll do my best. I promise.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

**

Part of me is howling; part of me is cold, calm and professional—there are thousands of humans to be settled temporarily (we hope), and a Bug attack to prepare for—and not much time. I feel like I’m on automatic, and part of me is, really. I sit back in my chair, run my hands through my hair. It’s getting long again, need to get a trim soon, part of me thinks, and I smile. Funny to worry about something like that when we’re dealing with all this crazy stuff. But life goes on… or not, a small part of my mind whispers, reminding me that Patrick is being interrogated. Or about to be. I shudder a little, refocus on the work at hand, and try not to think too much about Patrick.

“Mistis?” Yannan whispers, sinking to his knees by my desk. In his hands, a tray of food—soup, fresh bread, tea—and a very worried look on his tanned face.  
“Why, thanks, Yannan,” I reply, sitting back away from my desk, stretching. I’m hungry; been working for hours and hours, hadn’t thought much about anything else but relocating humans and setting up regrouping areas for Spaceforce ships and Samothracian vessels. I’d go from one thing to another, and somehow, food got lost in space. “Why the worried look, darlin’?”

“Mistis, you haven’t eaten for many hours—and I know you need to—and I’m just, well, worried about you. With all you have on your mind. I’m sorry, I wish there was more I could do…” He looks down, away from my eyes. At my slight hand gesture, he rises, sets the tray on my desk, unfolds my napkin for me and hands it to me.  
I smile up at him. “Yannan, you’re sweet. Thanks for the food—I’d forgotten about eating, but shouldn’t have—and thanks for thinking of me in general. You and Rasta are wonderful. How’s Sara working out? I’ve seen her signature electronically on some of the reports I’ve asked for, but haven’t seen hide nor hair of her in person…”

“She’s fine. Excellent worker. She does feel a bit… maybe… that she’s displeased you somehow, since you showed interest in her when she first came on board, but now she hasn’t seen you for a while. But we’ve tried to explain how busy you are,” he smiles back. “And I think she’s smart enough to understand that. And with all that’s happened…”

“I’d hate for her to think I’m ignoring her. I’ll send her a little present or something. I just haven’t had time to talk with any of you, actually. Make sure she’s not lonely… bored… sad… and I’ll try to squirrel away some time for visiting. Soon. I could use the break, but right now things are just too busy.” I sip the soup, blowing on the spoonful first, since it’s steaming hot. “And please, tell the cook they’ve outdone themselves. This is really good.”

He bows a little. “I will, Mistis. I had the cook make it especially for you… chicken tortilla soup, by your recipe. I thought it might please you.”

“It does! Thanks,” I reply, between mouthfuls of the soup. A message bings on my computer monitor and my eyes go back to it reluctantly. “Yannan, thanks, honey. Thanks a bunch. I just have to deal with this message from the Technical Directorate…”

“Yes, Mistis. If you need anything, please, let me get it for you!” He bows more deeply, and backs away from me until he’s the regulation distance—then scampers out of my office, a smile on his face. 

Well, at least I made him happy. And he can make Sara happy… and I can make this Merarch from the Technical Directorate happy, if I approve this purchase order for more survival pods. My budget is going to make Gwen a bit unhappy, but if that’s the worst I have to face, a fuss about being over budget, that’s fine with me. I approve the purchase and move on to Spaceforce issues, sipping the remnants of my soup, and devouring the fresh mini-loaf of Italian bread Yannan had brought with the soup. I forget about the tea until it’s too late… 

“Want me to warm that up for you?” 

I jump a little, not expecting Gwen to be right next to me… I’d been deep in planning schematics, tuning out the outside world, as well as my worries. “Ah! Um, yes! That would be nice. I forgot about it…”

“You need to eat and drink, just like the rest of us. Don’t work yourself into exhaustion; I can’t afford downtime for you right now.” Gwen walks over to the food dispenser area, puts the mug into the oven unit and warms up the tea for me. “How are you doing, Erin?”

I take the mug of tea from her; I’ve stood up, stretched, and yawned deeply while she’s crossing the room with the tea mug in her hand. I sip it slowly, savoring it. “I’m ok. A little tired, for sure.” Considering. I know she can read me like a book, so she’s just being nice to ask how I’m doing.

“I’ve noticed the budget, and it’s enough to make me take notice… but that’s fine. I know you’re trying to get everything done I’ve asked you to do, and that’s going to be expensive, even on our scale of things. Don’t worry about it, the Archonal council is fine with the expenditures, and so am I.” She grins at me. “How about the human and Servus resettlements?”

“I’ve sent you hourly reports…”

“I know,” she nods. “I just want to hear it from you.”

I grin. “OK, we’re doing well. There have been a few issues—lost children, pet problems, food likes and dislikes for the humans—but overall, we’re doing fine. We’ve spread out the relocation areas, surrounded them with sonic fences to keep humans and Servus in, locals out… and that seems to be working well. No intrusions or migrations, whichever way you want to look at it…” My voice trails off. A long moment passes then I find my voice again. “And yes, every waking moment when I’m not overwhelmed with work, I’m worrying about Patrick.”

“I know.” Gwen sits on the edge of my desk, arms crossed, face serious. “I’ve been trying to imagine—not that Draka are that creatively gifted, really—but I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like if one of my children was being placed under Security Directorate questioning. It’s hard to think about.”  
“Have you heard anything?” I hate to ask, but part of me aches to know.

“Yes…” She looks deeply into my eyes, testing, evaluating whether or not she wants to tell me more.

“Gwen, I promise, I won’t run around screaming. I just… not knowing is worse, somehow, than knowing. Maybe.” I sit the mug down on the desk, stroke a hand down the side of her face. “And I promise, I won’t ask you to do anything you really can’t do. As hard as it is, I understand.”

“I hope so,” she replies quietly. “Erin, Patrick has been interrogated for a couple of hours, intensively. He admits to being involved in the assassination attempt. That pretty much puts him in line for a ‘pill’. You know that.”

My son? My son wanted me dead? I turn on my heel, walk away from her, looking out the window across from my work area. “When will that be?”

“Soon. We’re talking to the other members of his little cabal, and their stories are matching up with his, and with the one we extracted from the would-be assassin. Slight variations, of course, but well within limits of tolerance for this sort of thing, really…” She stops herself, cursing slightly under her breath. “I’m sorry if that sounded cold. I find myself being very clinical about this, especially since I know it affects you so much. And part of me is making damn sure I stay cold about this, since another part of me is absolutely furious about it… than anyone, no matter your son or anyone else, would try to hurt you…”

“Gwen, it’s… it’s ok. Really.” I walk back over to where she’s still sitting on my desk. “I know it’s hard for you, too. I understand a little.” I put my hands on her shoulders and she stands up, pulling me close to her.

“I wish I could make things better.”

I nod against her chest. “I do, too… but it is what it is. Patrick got wrapped around the axle about something. I don’t know what twisted him so… It wasn’t the way we raised him. I knew he could get angry with me, but I never thought…”

Gwen nuzzles into my hair, murmuring Italian to me. It helps but doesn’t stop my heart from breaking all over again.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

**

“It’s his responsibility, Erin,” Schalk says gently to me. “Not yours. You’ve no way to influence this.”

I nod. “I just had to ask. You understand, don’t you?” Schalk smiles a little on the vidscreen, and shakes his head, yes. He’s sitting at his desk on our Earth, and I can see the Rocky Mountains behind him in his office’s huge windows. He sits back in his chair, steepling his fingers together under his chin.

“And I’m assuming you really don’t want Gwen to know you asked to talk with Patrick.”

“Yep, you got that right.” I smile back at him faintly. “I know, I know… I’m sure she’s already talked about it with you, but…” My voice trails off and the smile runs away. “I had to ask, Schalk. Just for all the old times Patrick and I have shared, the good times…”

“Those are over, darlin’,” the Draka says quietly. “Do you really understand that?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me do my job, and please—don’t ask again. I know you feel you had to, but now you have, so let it be done with. I’m glad Gwen’s there with you, to comfort you as best she can. I wish I could be there, too. But needs must.”

“Yes.” Needs must. “Thanks, Schalk. And I do understand. Service to the State.”

“Glory to the Race.” He signs off and my screen goes blank. 

I sit back, hug myself. The tears are there but I force them back. I can’t afford them now. I don’t know if I ever can. Patrick’s involvement in the assassination attempt on me has shocked me to my very core, but… maybe part of me realized it could happen? Remembering the venom in Alice’s voice in one of our last conversations before we divorced and how she said I wasn’t truly human anymore. Remembering the anger in Patrick’s voice and face when I wouldn’t—couldn’t—back him in his first major bid for total freedom from the Draka. It’s been there, I just haven’t wanted to look at it. Nor have I wanted to look at how different I am from the computer technician on Andros Island, so many years ago.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would end up like this. And I have no idea how much further things will change; I just roll with the punches the best I can. Un-hugging myself, I pick up the heavy shot glass, take another sip of Jack on the rocks. With the augmented body I have, it takes a lot to get drunk, but a few shots of Jack do give me a slight buzz. And it feels good, better than the numbness that’s been creeping over me for the past two days.

When I submitted to Gwen, back in the day, it was do that, or be dead. I figured I’d do more good alive than dead, and frankly, I just didn’t want to die right then, either. There’ve been times since then that dying hasn’t seemed that bad… but when it comes right down to it, I’m just not ready or willing to take the long walk off the short pier myself. I mean, if I buy it, I buy it, but I’m not going to off myself on my own. I’ve been through too much, surviving the sinking of my ship, the loss of my best friend, my daughter… and now my son. I’ve lost him, that’s for damn sure. I finish the rest of my drink and pour myself another one over the melting ice. It clinks and the comforting scent of Jack Daniels rises. I nibble on a cracker and then have another sip.

Patrick’s always been a hot head. I knew that, but never thought he’d… well, hell. Yeah, I guess I knew he was capable of it. It’s amazing what we’re all capable of when it comes right down to it. I chose my path; I chose to work with the Draka, minimize their conquest of the humans on my planet, and mediate it as best I could. I didn’t see the point of committing hara-kiri. Just be a bunch of dead folks lying around, and we’ve had enough of that throughout history. Yeah, they’re running the show, but someone always is. It just depends on what you can live with, or not. Patrick wanted me to ditch the Draka, rise up against them, when our additional abilities showed up after the augmentations—a slight side effect, an unintended consequence—but if we’d tried it, it would’ve turned into a debacle.

Understanding the psychology of the Draka has helped immensely; realizing they aren’t human, and never will be, has helped too. Patrick never really understood that; he just thought I was too in love and too in lust with Gwen to think clearly. I’ve had plenty of time and space to think about things, and know that it’s not just lust, or even our love, that’s driving me. I’ve picked my road, and I’ll be damned if anyone’s running me off it. There’s a future for humans and Draka, and Servus, and one of these days I’ll see it come true. Takes more than a crazy guy with slime on a knife to kill me. Hell, blowing up my aircraft carrier didn’t kill me, did it? The whiskey goes down smoothly, but leaves a trail of warmth. I finish the last cracker, tip the shot glass back, crunch the last couple of ice cubes that are left. I get up, put the bottle back in the bar, and toss the glass in the recycler.

At some point, no matter who the extremist is, you have to stand up to them and say enough. I should have done that a long time ago with Patrick but I always thought he’d come around. Guess not. And now I’ll never get to tell him that; Schalk told me as much without coming right out and saying it. He was my son, dammit, but he tried to have me killed, and I can’t… I sit down on the couch in my office, staring down at my hands. “Patrick, why? Why, damn it?”

Sometimes there’s no good answer. Sometimes there’s just silence, and Jack Daniels burning in your gut, and work piling up, waiting to be done. I remember Chief Gray, in the Navy—one of the toughest chief petty officers I ever knew—good man, but hard as nails—and I know for sure what he’d say: Carry on. Don’t just sit here being pitiful. There’s not a damn thing you can do about Patrick; he chose his own path, and it’s out of your hands. You’ve got work to do, people to help, maybe help win a war. Worlds to explore. A beautiful woman to lay. Hellfire. I grin a little bit, despite the heartache. Shit, I can hear Chief’s gravelly voice even now, and he’s been dead, and on the bottom of the ocean, for decades. Good man. So I’ll carry on. Not a lot else left to do.

**

Admiral Packard smiles across the table at me. “Well, Erin, you’ve certainly done an excellent job with the evacuations.”

“It was a lot of work, and I have fantastic staff. That, and no one really wants to meet a Bug.” I smile back tiredly. 

Gwen nods. “Glad it’s wrapping up; we can bring more over if needed, if the Bugs actually attack Earth. I’m still not convinced they will, though.”

“You still think they’ll attack the MMH?” Mary Grandon sighs deeply, which I know annoys the hell out of Gwen. That’s one of her pet peeves; she doesn’t have many, but as sensitive as Draka are, they consider sighing like that the equivalent of being thunked over the head with attitude. I watch her face and notice the skin around her eyes tightening a bit, but other than that, she doesn’t betray her frustration. After all, she’s almost 500 years old, and one of the most experienced, powerful Draka who’s ever lived…

“Yes. If our analyses are correct, they’d much rather have a way to access different universes full of humans and other consumables, rather than just one planet.” Gwen sits at the head of the table, in her high-collared black uniform of war. A red ruby bat-winged dragon glints on her collar, the symbol of her Archonate. Her thick mahogany hair hangs down over one shoulder in a braid, the gold of her hair clasp shimmering in the light. 

“IF your analyses are correct. So we’re basing our strategy on Draka intelligence analysis?”

Oh, Lordy, this woman… how did she make Captain? “Ma’am, the Samothracian intelligence folks…”

She cuts me off. “I don’t think I need you to tell me what Samothracians think.”

I close my mouth with a snap but feel the blush of anger rising in my cheeks. My ears tingle. Packard clears his throat loudly. “Really, Mary, we’ve been over this already. Our analyses pretty much match up with the ones given to us by the Archonate. And it’s really time to focus on more offensive strategies than our defensive plans. Those have been put into action, so let’s move on.”

Grandon sighs again. This time, one of Gwen’s eyebrows rises slowly, a tiny fraction of an inch. Grandon doesn’t notice, but Packard does. “Archon, how about if we go over the offensive plans from your people now?”

“Fine,” Gwen says smoothly, and makes a small gesture. 

A slightly nervous young Draka in Space Force steps forward from his seat along the wall, and one side of the room goes blank. A schematic forms there in 3-D, planets and ship locations brightly glittering in color-coded order. 

He looks briefly at Gwen, then begins his briefing, showing us all where our ships are placed, how we can respond to various scenarios. The briefing is detailed, thorough, very good. Grandon sighs a couple of more times, but no one makes any comments about it; Packard and Gwen ask questions, as does Yolande. I sit back and observe, catalog reactions, take notes and think of things I’ll ask later. I notice Emily’s doing the same and flash her a quick grin, which she returns.

“Any more questions?” The young Draka—he’s only 200 or so—looks around the room, clearly glad his briefing is almost over. No one speaks for a long moment, and he makes the screen disappear with an order from his transducer. All the data are sent to us for further review, under top secret security. I acknowledge receipt and send him a private message, telling him what a great job he’s done. He responds immediately, pleased.

“Thank you, Sigmund. Excellent work.” Gwen stands up. The room goes very quiet. She looks around the table, then along the walls of the conference room, holding everyone’s eyes with her own for a long moment. Each person feels, I know, like she’s just looked inside them and asked them a question, since that’s how I feel. And I’ve known her for so long… 

“Samothracians, Citizens. We’re on the brink of change. We can conquer or we will die. All of you have worked extremely hard to prepare for this; we’ve planned for alternate scenarios, and evacuated as many non-combatants as we can. Now we are as prepared as we can be. This time, it’s not a skirmish. It’s not a small war. This will be all or nothing—all the universes for us, or nothing. And I know, with our abilities, that we and our children will enjoy all the universes, for all time. The Bugs will merely be a footnote in our histories.”

Gwen pauses for a long moment. “Thank you, thank you all. And now let’s go get ready to add that footnote in our histories. Service to the State, and glory to the Race.” She gestures and we stand. She bows slightly and then walks from the conference room, and we Citizens follow her. The Samothracians wait a moment or two, and then come after us.

As they exit the room, I can hear Grandon: “I still think we should have contingency plans. They’re not always right, these Draka, no matter what you may think, Admiral.”

I turn around and walk over to them. “No one says we’re always right, Captain. No one is. But we’ve done our best to plan for things, and so has the Admiral’s staff. We’ve done all we can do; the mini- mole holes are increasing in frequency, so we know the Bugs are coming. Let’s try to pull together on this one; if we all pull in different directions, the only ones that’ll win are the Bugs.”

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize we were including you in this conversation,” the woman says haughtily, turning on her heel, her back to me now. Packard is facing me, and he’s doing his best to keep a bland face; he’s not doing so well, actually, since even I can tell he’s furious. 

“Your comments are loud enough all of us can hear you. And this is something we need to talk about.” I stand there, waiting. 

She keeps her back to me, and continues talking to Packard. “I think you’ll find my approach has been more pragmatic than the Draka’s, Admiral. And these plans are for your eyes only, of course.” 

The Admiral looks at her, raises an eyebrow, and doesn’t take the tiny disk she’s offering him. It sits there in her hand, and her hand is frozen, seemingly, reaching toward him. Talk about an awkward moment, I think. Hmm. More going on here than meets the eye, certainly. Packard turns toward me, away from the woman who is slowly doing a major burn. “Thank you, Councilor Kane. You’re right, and we will talk about this more. Just not now.”

The man walks away, past both of us. Grandon puts the disk in her pocket and walks away stiffly, never turning around or acknowledging me. I watch her go, watching her part the groups of people standing around by walking through them coldly, and wonder what’s driving her. She’s not making friends, that’s for damn sure. And she’s not getting her point across successfully either. I shrug and walk into the next room, where Gwen’s standing by a window. “Great speech, Gwen…”

“I hate giving those. People should already know all that; but sometimes the occasion calls for it.” She smiles at me, over the rim of a brandy snifter. “And what have you been up to, wench-of-mine?”

“Oh, raising hell.” I chuckle. “Couldn’t help myself… Packard just walked away from Grandon, and she’s forging her icy way back to her compartment, her top secret contingency plans in her hot little hand. C’est la vie.”

“She’s not interacting well with the other Samothracians, but she does have a following. Packard knows it, too. His political base isn’t quite as stable as he’d like it to be. So please, try not to start any large fires for him to try and stamp out. He’s busy enough.” Gwen’s voice is amused but her eyes are serious. I take the hint, and nod slowly.

“I wish I could figure her out…”

“You and the rest of us combined,” Yolande says from just behind me. “We are talking about Mary, aren’t we?” She joins Gwen and me at the window, a plate of cheese and crackers in one hand. “Here, try some; this is local product, quite good.”

I take a piece and so does Gwen. “Thanks! Not bad at all. And yes, we were talking about the Wicked Witch of the West.”

A blank look between Gwen and Yolande, and I realize that’s a cultural reference they don’t have; a quick message through my transducer clears things up and they both smile at it. “Good one,” Gwen smiles. “Have to remember it…”

“All this reminds me of being Archon…” Yolande says, quietly. “And there are always Grandons. Or Wicked Witches of the West. It just comes with the territory.”  
Her daughter laughs out loud. “You’re damn right, there, Ma!”

“Well, since this is the Old Archons Society Meeting, I’m heading on over to our quarters for a nap before we deploy…” I chuckle. “You guys have fun comparing notes…”

“Instead of that, why don’t the two of you go have fun… I’m sure I can find something to do…” Yolande replies. She winks at me and I blush deeply. “Go on now, we won’t have much time later for fun.”

“Ma…” Gwen almost sounds like a teenager.

“Go on, young ‘un.” The blonde Draka grins unrepentently. “I know you’ve been thinking about it…”

“Oh, Lordy, I’m just going on home…” I say, walking off as Gwen turns a slight pink under her tan. She snatches one more piece of cheese from the plate in her mother’s hand and follows me quickly, a grin white in her face. 

“Never miss a chance for R&R,” Gwen says, catching up with me, sliding an arm around my shoulders as we walk down the corridor. “Never!”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

**

“So what’s going on with Grandon?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow, looking over Gwen as she reclines on the bed, hair undone.

“Can we not keep that woman out of our thoughts for a bit?” she asks, green eyes glinting in the almost-dark. She rolls onto her side, looking up into my face. “Can’t I distract you?”

“No.” I sit up. “There’s something really bugging me… no pun intended… about that woman.”

“Really? Besides being an annoying little pustule on the devil’s butt?” Gwen sighs, sitting up, beginning the process of weaving her long, mahogany red hair into a thick braid. Her hands fly, almost a blur. “If she’s even that important?”

“No… there’s something…” I rub my forehead. “Gwen, why is she on the Admiral’s staff? He can pick and choose, like you can, can’t he? And why is she so damn determined to be obnoxious, when the least we could expect from the Samos is a bit of cooperation right now, with the Bug threat looming? Who the hell is she, anyway?”

“You’ve read the dossier Schalk’s staff compiled, just like I did. We all did. Not much to see, really…” Her voice trails off. “Really not much to see, and maybe there should be. You might be onto something.” She gets that slightly distant look, and I know from experience that means she’s talking with someone using her transducer. She nods, once, and then stretches, smiling at me. “Launched that spear… now we’ll wait to see where it lands.”

I smile. “And you can just put it out of your mind like that?” I snap my fingers.

“Of course.” Gwen smiles back, a predatory glint in her clear, leaf-green eyes. “I’m a Draka.” She gets up and starts dressing.

“I wish I could…” I try to smile but it doesn’t work so well. Gwen looks at me steadily, directly. I cross my arms and wait.

“You want to know more about your son?”

I nod. Gwen continues looking at me. “I know you talked with Schalk.”

Oh, great, even he can’t keep a secret from the Mistress of the Universe, I think, and a frown crosses my face despite my best efforts to catch it. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d hear…”

“Of course I would. The thing that surprised me, actually, was how well Patrick organized his little group. They were under the radar for quite some time… very impressive, given the level of surveillance and infiltration our SD has.” She puts the gold clasp she almost always wears on the end of her thick mahogany braid and tightens it. “That’s what surprised me. I wasn’t surprised that he tried again.”

“Well I damn sure was. I thought we worked all that out. A long time ago.” I shiver. “Gwen, I had to ask Schalk. You know that…”

“No, actually, I don’t ‘know that’. You went outside channels on that request. It raised some interesting security questions, and Schalk, of all people, doesn’t need that now. Nor do I.” The Draka stands up, stretches. “I’m not angry, just a bit annoyed.”

“What do you mean about Schalk?” I get up, wrap a robe around me, begin pacing, something I do when I’m nervous or upset. Gwen watches me, her face neutral. “I mean, I didn’t get him in trouble with you, did I? It was my fault.”

“I trust Schalk implicitly. However, some on the Archonal Council are… have expressed their… worries to me concerning security issues recently. Your contacting Schalk just added to it. We Draka love to play power politics; you know that. There are groups forming among Draka who’d like to see a new Archon, and a new director of the SD. Every time you do something like what you did with Schalk, it’s noticed. It makes my work harder, Erin.”

I hadn’t really thought about politics, at least not those particular ones, to be honest. “I think I understand now. I apologize. It won’t happen again.” I uncross my arms. “I try to stay so busy I can’t think about anything else, and hope that you’ll bonk me into unconsciousness, so I won’t lay awake nights and think… there’s nothing I can do, I know. And I know you’re being… just. It’s hard, Gwen.”

She nods. “Being over 500 years old now, I’ve been through a few situations like this. It’s never easy. I wish I could make it easier for you, but…” She pauses as she slips on her calf-high black boots. “It’s difficult in that I have to be very pragmatic about things. I have to take the long view, not the immediate one. And the hardest thing of all is to not be able to keep you from this pain you’re in.” A soft stamp, and she’s done dressing. The ruby bat-winged dragons glint in her collar.

“Thank you.” I know she can hear the harmonics in my voice and I know she’ll hear the sincerity there. Sometimes that makes communicating with an augmented human, a homo servus or a Draka a lot easier than with a regular human. Not always, just sometimes.

“Well, I’m heading back to the command center… why don’t you get dressed and join me? I want to see what your team has come up with while we’ve been… making merry.” She brushes a stray hair back, preening a bit in the mirror. “And I’ll consider the Schalk issue closed now. We just have to wait and see what the investigation on Grandon shows up. Shouldn’t take long.”

“No, as efficient as Schalk is…” I get up and start dressing. Wearing walking blacks as a uniform makes getting dressed pretty fast—the belt goes on, a command thru the built-in transducer in my mastoid bone behind my left ear, and the uniform covers me in a few seconds. It takes longer to put the boots on than anything else, but Draka like tradition. Plus, they’re comfortable. I ignore the layer knife in its sheath on the bureau, but Gwen doesn’t. She points at it, silently, and I sigh, but put it on. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It may save your life one day, wench.” She grins and walks out, leaving me to do my hair and wash the sleep out of my eyes. I don’t take long, though, and in a few moments, I’m on my way to the command center. While I walk there, I download an update from Yannan and Sara, and have a briefing all ready for Gwen by the time I get there. Amazing what these transducer things can do, I think; I resisted it at first, since the idea of having a living machine in my skull sort of freaked me out a bit. But over time, it’s become a very useful thing to have.

As I walk to the command center, I notice Draka being very polite to me. Nods, moving out of my way more quickly than a Citizen does for a Metic. Definitely more quickly than a Draka does for a Samothracian, or a regular human, or a Servus. Usually, as a Metic, they’re nice, but not overly polite. This is new. I don’t really understand why, until I catch a subvocalized conversation between two younger Draka as I pass them. 

“It’s her!”

“Yes, she survived the assassination attempt… with some help from a real Draka.”

“Can you believe it was Yolande who saved her?”

They realize I’m looking intently at them and quickly stop their subvocalizations, looking very innocent to the inexperienced eye. I grin slowly. “Yes, Yolande Ingolfsson. Wonderful lady.”

The two—a man and a woman, both probably in their early 100’s—both blush. “Excuse us, Citizen, if we—ah—offended you at all.” The male Draka looks directly at me while his companion studies a series of art prints on the corridor walls. “I didn’t realize you could hear us… everyone’s talking about it.”

“Yes, I think I understand now. People were acting a bit differently around me. That’s fine. I’m not offended. I really am very grateful to Yolande for saving me,” I reply. Either she’s trying to kick my ass or save it, and it’s confusing. But I’m damn glad she was there when poison-boy was coming after me.

“Good luck to you,” the woman Draka says, quietly. “We’ve also been aware it was your son behind the… ah… incident. I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

“Yeah, well…” I try to smile. “Thanks for your good wishes.” I walk on quickly, not wanting them to see my eyes filling up with tears. I’m going to have to get a grip on this because as Gwen’s Councilor, I can’t be seen as unstable. Enough Draka worry about augmented humans as it is; I don’t need to give them fuel for their fire. And I don’t need to tear myself up inside like this, either.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

**

“We’re as ready as we can be, for the main Bug strike.” Or at least we’re as ready as we’re gonna be, I think to myself, careful not to subvocalize. “Our teams have been working overtime, and then some, and the evacuations have gone really well. We’ve defensive domes in place, as well as underground shelters in case we need them. Food, water, medical supplies. Morale’s holding up very well. The indigenous humans are settling in faster than we expected; apparently the Star Lords aren’t quite as merciful or bountiful as we are.” I tap on the glowing screen in front of me, half expecting the sound of my thumb ring hitting glass. Of course, being a virtual screen, there’s no sound, but the things I’ve mentioned are highlighted and I hear small murmurs of conversation behind me.

I turn to face the group—Samothracians, augmented Metic humans, and Draka. Most are wearing combat uniforms, since we’re now at the highest level of alert. Gwen smiles slightly at me, nods her head. I bow slightly and conclude, “Service to the State.”

“Glory to the Race,” Gwen murmurs, and the Draka around her follow suit. The Samothracians look slightly pained but they just have to get over that, I think. It’s our way of finalizing a conversation that’s official, like saying, “Aye Aye” or saluting. I sit down, as Schalk stands up and begins his Security briefing.

“Samothracian allies, Citizens,” Schalk’s white-blonde hair shines under the muted spotlight. He makes a small gesture and a screen appears behind him, and on all our tablets. In Draka heads, it shows up in front of our eyes, a built-in heads up display courtesy of our transducers. “Security reports show no appreciable risk activities during the evacuation and resettling, with only one exception. And that has been… dealt with.” His eyes spear me and I shudder inside. Outside, I’ve schooled my features to be calm, cool and collected-looking. Funny how we can all be award-winning actors sometimes. He continues, “There was an assassination attempt on Councilor Kane; it was neutralized. During our investigation, we discovered a small group of Metics who had conspired to commit this crime. They’ve been tried, convicted, and sentenced in accordance with Draka law and custom.” Behind him, seven faces flash on the screen; it’s their Security Pass identification photos, and they all look so damn young and eager.

I don’t want to think about what they look like now; nor do I want to think that my son’s one of them. My stomach churns but I maintain a calm façade somehow. 

Schalk pauses, then with a quick glance at Gwen, finishes his briefing. “We consider this an isolated incident and all the guilty parties have been…” Schalk’s eyes flicker back to me, watching, judging my responses. “They’ve been executed. And with that, we feel the situation has been cleared up. As far as Security goes, we’re ready, both on Earth/2 and here.” He sits down and the screen disappears. There’s more murmuring in the background but I keep my eyes on my hand-held compinset. I don’t want to see people looking at me, wondering how I’m dealing with having my son executed by the Security Directorate.

Tamarindus is the next to speak, and she does a tandem talk with a young Samothracian captain; they go over the way we have our ships spread out in a defensive posture, ready to pounce as soon as the Bugs show up. We’d be on the offensive, of course, being Draka, but it’s been damn hard to track down the timeline the Bugs are coming from… one of the major problems being that they seem to be coming from multiple timelines, not just one. Sort of like cockroaches scuttling around the floor of a barracks when the lights come on unexpectedly… you can only swat so many at one time, unless you figure out a way to… my mind drifts.

We’ve been reacting to the Bugs, stomping and swatting. We’ve been pushed to the defensive by their tactics. Not a good thing, I think. And I’m not a born Draka, always enjoying a good fight. What the hell? What about getting them where it counts? I send a quick query to Tamarindus… asking if we’ve looked into developing a Bug Spray, so to speak. Biological or chemical warfare has always made me queasy, but this is against the Bugs, and for our survival. We can’t keep just stamping on them. Eventually, they’ll out-number us and overwhelm us. After all, we’re not a numerous people… I grin slightly.

Tamarindus never misses a beat of her presentation but multi-tasks perfectly, sending me back a message almost instantly. We looked into it briefly, but most of our technical resources have been focused on other topics, other tactics. I’ll get a team on it, now. We can spare the personnel. I nod a little as I get her information and forward it on to Gwen and Schalk. 

I think this is something we need to look at, and this is why… I list my reasons and wait for their responses. As with Tamar, they react almost instantaneously. In my head, Gwen’s voice: Excellent suggestion, Erin. Tamarindus, make this a priority Alpha. We certainly seem to have the time and resources to spare. And it’s about time we stopped swatting and started destroying instead. Her blood lust shines through her transducer-sent message and instead of scaring me half to death, I find myself resonating to it. My blood runs faster; my hair is probably bristling a little, eyes dilating. 

Emily Richardson, sitting across from me, in her Samothracian Navy uniform, looks over at me with a puzzled look on her face. She’s reading my reactions, and wondering why. She’s one smart cookie. I smile slightly. Gwen’s eyes rake over us with her leaf-green stare, and she steeples her hands. She’s considering if she wants to tell the Samothracians, I realize. It’s a power gesture. Her thumb ring glitters gold in the lighting as she puts her hands back flat on the table in front of her. Apparently she’s decided.

“Admiral, we are pursuing another… avenue.” Admiral Packard swivels his chair so he’s facing Gwen directly, eyebrows raised in query. Gwen goes on, her voice cool and level, soothing almost. “We’re looking into biological warfare against the Bugs.”

Gasps around the room, mostly from Samothracians; some Metics look shocked too. No looks of horror from Draka, though, I notice. In a fight with them, they’re quite practical. Anything’s fair in war, or really, nothing’s fair and everything’s allowed. 

“Biowar?” Packard’s voice has major stress tones in it. Can’t blame him, really, looking back at PrimeLine’s history. The Final War had all sorts of biological, chemical and nuclear warfare. I’ve seen the vids. It’s damn ugly.

“Yes. Against the Bugs.” Gwen smiles slightly, her teeth showing very white in her deeply-tanned face. She’s mocha brown right now; our skin tone adjusts to ambient light automatically, or under our command, either way. “Not against humans, Servus or Draka.” She stares at him. 

The Samothracian nods, ever so slightly. He’s remembering that Samothracians have used biologics against Servus and Draka, in the not-so-distant past. I watch the two of them, how they’re balancing the needs of the moment against political expediency. Packard nods again, more openly.

“If we can assist, please allow us to do so. That would be a good thing; it would help assure those of us who resist this type of weapons development—we’d be able to assure ourselves that appropriate safeguards are built in, Archon. To make this a Bugs-only killer.” One of his aides starts to say something, his face red as a beet. Admiral Packard makes a cutting gesture with one hand and the aide sits back, swallowing hard. And still red. More murmuring around the room. Several Draka look very distant; they have to be working through their transducers at the moment—I know the look. Been there, done that.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Gwen purrs. Tamarindus nods, as do several other Draka. Interestingly, one of them is Yolande. Other Draka are watching her closely, and notice what I did. The whispers on the Draka side of the conference table drop off. Apparently, if Yolande’s cool with it, others are too, including ones that aren’t big political fans of Gwendolyn Ingolfsson. She herself looks around, gauging the reactions, polling silently. Of course, she’d already done her political calculus before announcing the idea; she’s just checking the results. She’s satisfied; I watch her body language relax a little. “Admiral, have your science officers meet with Tamarindus and her staff. I’m making this a priority. Let’s have a big surprise for the Bugs when they show up this time.” And she smiles again, a wolf grin. A hunter’s smile, nothing friendly about it at all. And again, instead of shuddering with fear, I shudder with something else—lust, a need to hit something, a need to move. I shift in my chair, tug at my uniform tunic a little. Loosen my collar with a finger.

Gwen looks over at me and raises one eyebrow slightly. So slightly, it’d be hard to notice unless you were really tuned into her expressions. I send her a message through my transducer. Sorry, bit of a hot flash or something. I think I need to go work out. Her answer is a short bark of laughter in my head. “And with that, I think we’ll conclude this meeting. We all have a lot to do. Any questions, please let me or my staff know. Anything the science teams need, the same. Just let me know. Admiral, shall we meet again after dinner? Say, 1700 hours?” 

Packard nods. “Sounds fine to me.” He looks over at me and smiles. “And thank your staff for such creative problem-solving. It’s appreciated.” He stands up and the rest of the table stands, too. Chairs slide back noiselessly on the memet deck, disappearing into the deck itself. That still kind of weirds me out—I’m not used to hardware not being so hard, as it were. I still have the need to move, to do something, so I hand my tablet to Yannan and follow Gwen out the hatch. In the corridor, she steps to one side, in a small alcove, and gestures for me to join her. 

“So?”

“I’m just… all itchy, or something. I really need to go for a workout, or a sparring session.” I smile up at her. “And no, I’m not actually that… frisky. It’s different.”

“You’re finally starting to feel like a Draka. I understand how you feel. The gymnasium will be busy, though; lots of Draka have the same idea,” she murmurs, as people flow past us. “How about sparring?”

“Sure, but where?” I grin at her. “Your quarters?”

“Hell’s bells, no, the last time we did that, you broke a Ming vase.” Schalk walks up to us. “How about outdoors, somewhere a bit private? We can set up some privacy barriers, keep pesky humans from interfering…” 

I nod. “Good. I just need to move! Argh!”

Schalk pats me on the back. “We can manage that, I think. Come on, let’s go.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

**

Memories: The Navy taught me some basic self-defense moves, but not too many. They figured the Marines would be around to fight off bad guys by hand; we were there to deliver firepower via airplane and large weapons. But once I became Gwen’s, she insisted that I learn from her. She said at one point, at the beginning, that a five year old Draka child could take me out with one punch. I didn’t really believe her until years later, when I’d known a few Draka children. And she was right.

I stretch my legs out in front of me… makes me wish I was taller. I watch Gwen and Schalk do their warm up routines, their bodies almost leonine in the dappled sunlight of the small field we’re using. I’ve set up sonic barriers, so animals, humans, and Samothracians can’t come barging in on us; even a Draka would pause, not wanting to experience the excruciating pain of walking through a sonic barrier. Humans and others would just feel more and more uneasy at first; if that didn’t warn them off, eventually they’d probably knock themselves out if they continued approaching the barrier. If they came right up to it, it could be deadly. Not many humans have done that.

I stand up, flexing my arms, feeling the loose, ready sensation. I’ve gotten used to it since now, being a modified human, I work out every day. I’m almost as strong and fast as a top-of-the-line Draka like Gwen. But in order to keep up with the biomods, working out isn’t an optional thing—it’s necessary, like eating and drinking.   
Birds call from trees around the field; there’s a slight breeze and I smell wood smoke, humans, Servus, Draka… a hint of Samothracian scent, too. My transducer always alerts more strongly to that, but it’s programmed to do so. Gwen and Schalk’s scents are interesting; the transducer helpfully parses them out… analyzes them, passes the information to my brain. No overt aggression or anger; not as much sexual scent as usual—they must both be consciously suppressing their usual urges. Some stress; worry, maybe. Tension, rather high. A hint of playfulness from Schalk.

Swallowing, I notice my mouth’s a little dry. Nerves. I check my scent, notice the nervousness, almost irritating in its intensity. I’ve had a hell of a lot on my mind recently. Aggression is low to neutral but my assertiveness is high. I pace back and forth, waiting for them to be ready. It’s sparring, so it’s not a free-for-all fight. Rules and such. When I began sparring with them, after the first round of biomods, they were playful little sessions. Tossing me here, throwing me there… then as I grew into my new strengths and skills, it got rougher. The occasional bloody nose, puffed eyelid. They were simply making a point, Draka-style. I have to learn this, or die. It’s that simple. And they’re both trying to save my life.

And your son tried to take yours, a tiny voice in my mind whispers. Your son. I grind my teeth together and notice I’ve made fists tight enough to whiten my knuckles. Gwen walks over to me, looking down at my hands. I carefully unfold my fingers and let them hang loosely by my sides. She glances up into my eyes and waits, a small smile on her lips. “Ready, Erin?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I answer, going into a fighting stance. She mirrors me; feet shoulder-width apart, torso slightly turned away from me, shoulders high, arms bent, slightly-curved hands in front. Her eyes bore into me with their steady, leaf-green stare. I notice in some corner of my mind that our breathing matches, breath for breath. I glance over my left shoulder to see where Schalk is, and Gwen moves, a blur.

“Ahai!” Her call is sharp, warning. If this was a real fight, she’d growl, most likely. Draka fight very silently. They do celebrate kills loudly, though. Her call alerts me, whips my head back to face her. Instead of trying to block her right arm, which is sweeping down from shoulder to hip level, but aimed at me, I merely smile and sidestep to the right. My left leg chambers up and then kicks out, hoping to find her hip. I’m fast—even now, I get surprised at how fast I am—but she’s faster. One reason she’s one of the oldest Draka alive.

Gwen cups my ankle with both hands, flips it upwards and I’m flying through the air. My left leg feels like someone’s tied a steel cable to it and I’ve been launched off the deck of a carrier… the world swirls around me, my eyes tracking, adjusting; my body readies itself for meeting the earth again. I try to curl up into a ball, but Gwen’s still holding my ankle, damn it. She smacks me to the grass, hard. I try again to pull away from her grip, but it’s useless. Instead, I roll up and push towards her, knocking her a little off balance. She’s grinning, hair bristling and eyes wide. Focused on me, she doesn’t notice Schalk until his kick sweeps her off her feet. She and I roll together on the grass.

I manage to get my arms over hers, holding hers to her sides. I’m not smiling. I sit up on her, legs scrabbling for purchase in the loamy soil. She grunts and tries to buck me off, and I can feel her arms’ strength surging against my own. I can’t hold her like this for long, that’s for sure; Schalk is somewhere to my right, circling around for another blow. And he doesn’t play favorites. It’s everyone for themselves in this sparring match. I squeeze Gwen hard enough to make her gasp slightly; as she exhales, I bound off her and to the side, hands and feet pushing me away as quickly as I can scurry.

A blur moves by me, just missing my abdomen. I scurry faster, trying to get somewhere where I have time to stand up and look around. Another blur—but this one slams into my back, just above my right kidney. Pain blurs my vision for a moment, and I take a mouthful of grass and dirt as I slam into the ground. Instinct—part of the biomods, but partly just me—tells me to roll, to keep moving. I roll to the left, and kick my right leg out, catching Schalk perilously close to his family jewels. He dances back, wincing a little.

Gwen, smiling sweetly, kicks his legs out from under him as he’d done to her, and then kicks him, fairly hard, in the gut. He curls up but manages to bounce to his feet; arms guarding his center as he works on making his lungs take in more air. Gwen pivots in a flash and backhands me into next week. I manage to catch part of it with my raised arms, but not all of it. I go ass over teakettle into the brush, cussing as I go. My lip puffs up but the Draka engineering inside me instantly begins controlling the swelling and tiny ruptured blood vessels. It also pumps more adrenaline into my system, and I circle around the two taller Draka, looking for a good strike.

All of this has taken less than a couple of minutes; the birds fluttered off in a flock as the first, fairly silent, blows fell. The woods are quiet around us; just the sound of the wind in the trees, and our breathing. Schalk moves first, a windmill of blows aimed at Gwen, who’s crouching a little, waiting. She parries almost all of them easily; only one or two make it through her defense. He’s breathing harder than she is, too, I note—and make my move. I rush forward, and in a great imitation of a football tackle, take him down from behind with my arms wrapped tightly around his legs. And his legs are damn strong, too, I realize, as he turns in mid-fall, lofting me into the air with his legs, and kicking me off almost in one movement. Shit!

Gwen moves in quickly. An almost-stamp to Schalk’s unguarded neck; he immediately signals pax. She moves from him to where I’m scrambling to my feet, and in an instant, she’s on me. Her right arm goes around my neck; her left hand punches me in the gut and she picks me up off the grass like I’m a feather. The world goes grey, and I manage to signal pax as well. She carefully puts me down, then seeing that I’m still a bit wobbly, sits me on her left knee, holding me steady for a moment. I focus on breathing, or remembering how to.

“Damn it, Gwen, will we ever manage to beat you up?” Schalk mutters, standing up and brushing himself off. He pulls twigs out of his hair. “Ever?”

“Probably not,” she smiles. “I don’t plan on it, anyway.” Her hand steadies me. “Are you able to breathe alright, Erin?”

“Yes, yes.” I nod, feeling a blush creep up my neck to my face. “I’ll be fine. You just make the stars come out for a moment or two…”

“You need to work on your defense,” Gwen says, kindly enough. “We’ll help you. You’ve improved tremendously from when we began, just a few years ago. I’m proud of you.” She leans in and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

Schalk leans down and kisses me on the other cheek. “Yes, we are.”

“Aw, gee whiz!” I blurt, and start to my feet. “Now don’t start all that…”

“What?” they both say, acting all innocent.

I brush myself off, standing several paces away. “You know what…” I eye them, check their scents. And I know they’re checking me out, too. “Goobers!”

I bolt for the woods, remembering to turn off that sector’s sonic barrier before lumbering into it. I’m running as fast as I can, dodging trees, leaping shrubbery, skipping over a small creek. The water chuckles and splashes as I jump past it, but I can just barely hear the Draka footsteps, the running, behind me. I increase my pace but know, down deep inside, that unless a miracle happens, they’ll catch me. I grin.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One  
As I leap over the creek, there’s a speck of color in my peripheral vision that doesn’t match the surroundings. My transducer has a hissy fit, throwing me into combat mode without further ado. With the adrenaline surging through me still from the sparring, it doesn’t take too much to flip me into kill mode, that’s for sure. All the sounds of the forest seem to fade, but vision increases to diamond sharp clarity and my brain informs me: Samothracian.   
I reach out and grab the tunic, just below the neck line, and hear a sharp gasp as my hand closes tight. My other hand’s reaching for my layer knife… and then I catch a glimpse of the face above the collar—Emily Richardson. I quickly let go, but my momentum carries us both to the forest floor in a tangle.  
Part of learning to be a modified human—a lesser Draka, if you will—is learning how to control the sudden impulses and urges that surge through you due to the genetic modifiers. It takes practice, practice and more practice. I manage not to clamp my hands around Emily’s neck in reflex, but it’s hard. Very hard. We roll briefly through small shrubbery and grasses… Emily’s breathing hard on my neck and I can tell she’s trying very hard, too, to not flip into instinctive “oh no it’s a Draka” mode. I end up on top due mostly to luck, and look down at her rumpled shirt, the leaves in her hair. “Why, I do declare, it’s Emily Richardson! Lawd sakes alive!”  
“Argh! Get off me, you moose!” She tries to push me off her by raising her hips, but I just grin down at her.  
“Nice pony…”  
“Dammit!” Her face turns crimson. “Get off me! Now!”  
“Pretty pony…”  
“Emily!!” There’s a short gasp, a horrified one. Calvin Brockett stands above us, hands on hips. His face matches the horror in his voice. “What is going on here? I mean, really?”  
“Calvin!” Emily sounds upset. “It’s nothing, we just…um… ran into each other. Please, Erin. Get up!” She looks from the Samothracian back to me, and I can see she’s serious now.  
I stand up just as Gwen and Schalk run through the brush next to us, both landing in combat crouches. Again, reflex. I quickly send a no threat alert through our transducers, and see them visibly relax; their hair doesn’t bristle and their breathing slows… muscles move under their walking black uniforms. Gwen straightens up first, grinning at us.  
“Caught more than we were bargaining for, but that’s fine… the more, the merrier, I say.”  
Schalk’s teeth flash white in the dappled sunlight. “Yes, indeed.” He brushes leaves out of my hair gently. I can smell cedar, earth beneath us… my enhanced senses pick up on more, too. Both Gwen and Schalk are aroused; Emily is, but is also very… upset. Not just embarrassment either… there’s more here than meets the eye, apparently. And the scent from Calvin is odd, too. Rut, certainly; I can see rivulets of sweat now, running down his neck into his collar. But there’s anger, and now disgust. And it’s directed at Emily and at us; not too surprising about directing it at Draka, since many Samothracians think Draka are merely devils in humanoid form. But why at Emily?  
I hold out a hand to help her up, and she grasps it tightly, using it to pull herself upright. She moves a little closer to me, too. Her scent shifts more towards fear, but there’s still embarrassment, and more than a tinge of anger. I look into her eyes, trying to read her mood more closely. “So, what’s up, chick? You ok, after I tackled you? It was a surprise, running into you here, that’s damn sure.”  
“Yeah… yes. I’m fine. And yes, it was a surprise.” And subvocally, she adds, And a damn good thing, too. Get me the hell out of here, Erin. Now. She’s schooling her features and her pulse now, though, and straightens her shirt and her slacks with quick, economical movements.  
“You’ve got all sorts of crap in your hair, honey,” I smile. “Let me help a little.” I begin pulling twigs, leaves and assorted forest debris out of her thick, dark hair.   
Calvin shifts from foot to foot and clears his throat. “Um, well…”  
Gwen and Schalk have picked up on Emily’s subvocalization as well, and are certainly more able than I am to figure out the various pheromones floating around. After all, Gwen’s almost 500 years old, and you get really good at that sort of thing the longer you live. Gwen moves, very subtly, between Emily and Calvin while Schalk moves over to one side of Calvin. They’re separating the herd, one part of my mind whispers. Looking for the weakest member, then they’ll move, blurringly fast…  
“Everything all right, Emily?” Gwen’s voice has calming harmonics interlaced in it. She reaches over and brushes more forest crap off the young Samothracian woman, and as she does so, gently moves Emily a little further away from Calvin. Emily’s eyes wide at the Draka’s touch; after all, Gwen is the Solar Archon, not just anybody. It’s very rare, protocol-wise, for a very senior Draka to touch a less-senior Citizen, let alone a Samothracian. Treaty or no treaty, it’s unusual. Emily doesn’t resist the gentle pressure, though and moves as Gwen wishes.  
“Ah… it’s fine, Archon. Really,” Emily looks up into Gwen’s leaf-green eyes. She swallows hard, once or twice, and then shakes her head “no” a very little bit. “Everything’s fine. Why don’t we all walk back to the settlement area? I’ve had enough… surprises… for quite some time.”  
As she speaks, Calvin’s face goes bright red and his eyes narrow. Schalk maintains his position between Emily, Gwen and me and the young Samothracian male, and I see his shoulders stiffen. Looking down, I can see Calvin’s hands forming into fists, white-knuckled. I look him up and down—there’s dirt on his left elbow and both knees; there’s also a long, very new, very red scratch down the left side of his neck. What in the world has happened here?  
Emily takes my hand. “We really should go. I’m sorry we got all tangled up! Are you ok, Erin?”  
“Oh, I’m fine.” I grin at her. “Love rolling around in the woods with willing wenches. One of my favorite occupations!” I squeeze her hand gently. “Yeah, let’s head back.”  
With all the evacuations, and preparing for the probable Bug attack, Emily and I haven’t had a lot of time to sit around and chat. She’s a lot of fun to talk with (unless she has too much champagne, as we discovered a while ago…), but something is going on here that I’m not very happy about, if my conclusions are correct. The only way to find out, apparently, is to get her back to the settlement, and talk with her away from Calvin.  
“I’m parched, myself,” Gwen says companionably. “I could do with a long, long drink of water. You did extremely well, Erin, sparring with us. Some new moves?” She hooks one arm around Emily’s shoulders, and one around mine, and guides us towards the path. Yes, there was a path, but of course Emily and I missed it completely when we trampled each other.   
Schalk waits for Calvin to move first. The young Samothracian glares at us, then at Schalk, who smiles slowly and toothily at him. Then the human turns his back on us with a muttered “Snakes!” and stalks off, going down the path in the opposite direction we’re going. Apparently, someone doesn’t want to walk with us to the settlement. Interesting.  
Once he’s out of even Samothracian bionic hearing range, I stop chatting about sparring and ask Emily point blank: “OK, what happened between you two? Why were you running from him? Why’d you scratch the fire out of his neck?”  
“You don’t miss much, do you, Sherlock?” Emily snaps back. Then she sobs, once, again. Gwen stops us and lets go of the human woman. I step in and hug Emily close. At first, she resists, but then she leans against me and the tears begin to flow. Gwen and Schalk walk on a few meters ahead of us, allowing a wee bit of privacy—or at least the appearance. I know they’re listening to every word, vocalized or subvocalized, from where they are.  
“Emily…”  
“Oh, God, Erin, I was so stupid… so terminally stupid…” Her shoulders heave as she sobs. “I just didn’t think he’d… that he would… that any Samothracian would…”  
“Did he try to hurt you?” I cup her chin, make her look up at me. I also very gently wipe a tear or two off her face.  
“Yes.” Her voice is shaky, almost child-like.   
“Did he?”  
“No.” She buries her head again on my shoulder. “That’s why I was running… why we collided.”  
“Damn him! I’ll beat his ass into next week,” I mutter, hugging her tightly.   
Emily starts a bit, pushes back from me. “No, no… Erin, that wouldn’t be… it’s… no! It’s ok. I took care of it.”  
“He’s still walking around, isn’t he? So in my book, you haven’t taken care of it.” I’m angry now and my voice shows it. Rape, per se, is very rare actually amongst the Domination. There’s no need now. And with pheromonal control being what it is… and Servus being bred to serve, any way possible… any egregious sexual abuse is basically abusing someone’s property or the property of the State. It’s not good for anyone. It usually leads to a Death Challenge, and that’s that.  
“No, look, I took care of it. And when we get back to the settlement, I’ll… talk with someone. But that’s it, ok? I don’t need you to go all Berserker on him.” She tries to smile through her tears, and then brushes her face off with a sleeve. “It’s ok. Really.”  
“OK… if you say so. It’s just rather… unheard of, as far as I know about your culture.” I pat her gently on the back and we join Gwen and Schalk, who’ve been waiting for us.  
“Um… yeah. I’ll take care of it when we get back to civilization. And we better hurry, or the Archon may just faint, since she’s so parched! Sounds like you’ve shown her a thing or two sparring, Erin. That’s impressive, if I do say so…” Emily tries to sound chipper and cheery, and perseveres as we all walk down towards the settlement area. She doesn’t bring up the issue again, but I know Gwen and Schalk have taken note of it. I know I have.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

A hand on my shoulder snaps me from my transducer-reverie. I look up to see Gwen’s smile, as she gazes down at me. “You’re deep in thought… want to share? You have your privacy screens up pretty high.”  
“Oh, sorry,” I smile back. I sit up from where I’ve sprawled in my recliner, tug my uniform straight. “I was just doing some… research.”  
“On?”  
I take her hand and kiss it lightly. “Oh, our friend Captain-I-Want-to-be-Great Ruler-of-All Grandon and her aide, Commander Calvin Brockett.”  
“Ah…” It’s a hunter’s sigh, full of satisfaction. “I was thinking about researching the same thing, but you’ve beaten me to it. So what have you found, through the InfoWeb?”  
“Actually not that much, but enough. Captain Grandon is known for being a hard-liner; I’m surprised she came through the mole hole with Packard.” I run my hands through my thick gray-blonde hair. I keep it shoulder length—much longer, it’s a pain to keep up with, especially if you’re in low to zero G for any length of time. Shorter, it’s itchy. “But she did… with her little pal.”  
“She was hoping she could carve out some territory—political or otherwise—for her faction. That hasn’t worked out too well, from what I can see.” Gwen sits down on the arm of the recliner, her face growing serious. “But what was the issue between Emily and the young buck—Brockett? A failed mating, or an attempted rape?”  
“I think it was more of the latter.” I send a brief transducer message to one of my serfs, asking for coffee for two. In a moment, the serf silently approaches, bows, delivers steaming mugs of the best coffee Earth/2 could make. Gwen and I each take one, and I thank the young wench. She blushes, backs away, then quickly exits. I’m getting used to having serfs around, I think. Odd.  
“Really?” Gwen sips her coffee meditatively. “That’s rare, among Draka, anyway. We don’t have much use for it anymore.”  
“Thank God,” I whisper. She raises an eyebrow, coolly. I clear my throat. “I’d just rather not rape or beat people into submission. That’s all.”  
“As I said, no need for it now, with pheromones, and genetics.” The Archon smiles at me. “But it was useful as the Race was achieving its goals. When we were human, that is.”  
“Well, as rare as it is with the Draka, it’s also just as rare among the Samothracians. Emily managed to keep him off her, but she was pretty shaken up.”  
Gwen nods. “We could tell.”  
“The royal we?”  
She pauses for an instant, looking up a cultural reference to what I just said. Then she grins whitely. “In a way. Both Schalk and I were monitoring. Schalk really wanted to teach the young buck a lesson he’d never forget, but we… refrained. With the political situation as it is now, and the high probability of a Bug attack soon, it’s not something to waste a lot of energy upon.”  
I nod as I drink the coffee. “I can understand. And Emily did manage to take care of herself. And I agree with Schalk. I’d like to kick Brockton’s butt into next week, but Emily asked me not to… she said she’d take care of things on her own.”  
“Inform Packard?”  
“What’s he going to do? There’s no desert island he can conveniently post Calvin Brockton to… I don’t know. That’s the last bit I was trying to look into. But there’s not a lot available, even from body language analyses. So do you think Grandon’s going to use the very real likelihood of an attack to advance her and her party at the expense of Packard and his followers? If she comes into power now, that’s going to significantly change our alliance. And the chance of beating the Bugs back, again. And they’re stronger, now, Gwen. The Bugs, I mean. I’m worried.”  
“I’ve developed some contingency plans for that scenario, among others. Don’t worry too much. Waste of time and energy, darlin’.” She strokes a hand through my hair. “You worry too much anyway.”  
“Always have.” I stand up, toss my mug into the recycler.  
There’s a muted “bing” as someone knocks at my door, the old fashioned way… Gwen raises an eyebrow. “Expecting visitors, without transducers, obviously?”  
“No,” I reply. Walking over to the hatch, I tap the wall with a finger. It goes clear like a vidscreen and shows me who’s outside. It’s Admiral Packard and Emily Richardson. Gwen and I exchange glances; she stands up, walks over to one of her paintings hanging on the bulkhead, hands clasped loosely behind her back. I tell the hatch to dial open.  
“I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time, Councilor.” Packard’s face looks strained. Emily just looks blank.  
I wave them in. “Not at all. In fact, your ears may be ringing. We were just talking about both of you.”  
The two Samothracians enter. I can read from their body language that it’s a major stress factor to be actually in a Draka Citizen’s quarters. Packard notices me looking them up and down, and forces himself to grin, wryly. “Yes, never thought I’d be spending this much time with the Draka. But as Gwen herself likes to say, ‘Needs must.’”  
I chuckle—that’s one of Gwendolyn Ingolfsson’s favorite sayings—and I hear a small snort from Gwen. “Oh, it all works out. I wish we could’ve had the alliance before the Bugs basically beat both Samo and Draka ass. But…” I hold my hands open. “C’est la vie.”  
Emily smiles a little. “Could I have a glass of water, please, Erin?”  
“Of course!” Instead of calling a serf, I go over to the food unit on the aft bulkhead and ask it for some ice water. I hand the beaded glass to the young woman, and she smiles gratefully, taking a long drink. Packard walks over to inspect the same painting Gwen’s looking at.  
“Archona?”  
“Yes, before the Final War. A memory piece,” Gwen explains.   
“You painted this?” He sounds surprised.  
“She paints a lot, does some sculpture, too…” He turns to me, eyebrows raised. “She’s just full of surprises, Admiral Packard.”  
“Aren’t you all?” He turns back to Gwen. “I’m very impressed, not that I’m a well-known art critic or anything. I just know good art when I see it.”  
“Thank you,” Gwen murmurs. She turns to face us. “Now, we have the general civilities complete; why don’t you tell us what has you both so upset?”  
Emily’s face blanches. David Packard clears his throat and hesitates.   
“Is it about Brockett?” I look at Emily, noting how tight her grip is on the glass of water. Any tighter, that thing’s going to smash. I reach over, tap her lightly on the hand. “Be careful there, Pilgrim, you don’t know your own strength…”  
“Pilgrim?” Emily sounds confused.  
“One of Erin’s many cultural references that cause the rest of us to pause and look them up…” Gwen smiles. “Entertaining.”  
“Oh!” The young Samothracian takes another long sip of water, looks over to Packard.  
“Yes… well, thank you for helping Emily get away from that odious young man,” David Packard says, quietly. “It was a very… unfortunate… situation.”  
“Indeed,” I nod. “It would’ve been more unfortunate for him, but Emily talked me out of administering an ass-kicking.”  
“He needs one,” Packard agrees. “In a major way. But…”  
“But what?” Gwen says.  
“But… he’s very well-connected to the Grandon group, and if there was a retaliatory incident, it would make my group’s political position even more tenuous than it is, Gwen. Power politics, you know the drill. Being who you are, you’ll understand.” He wipes a hand over his mouth as he finishes, almost as if he wants to wash his face clean. “And the Grandon faction is making a lot of headway. Nothing seems to sell like fear.”  
“It can be useful in the short term, but less so in the longer term,” Gwen says conversationally. “I think Captain Grandon is outliving any usefulness she may have had. And her partners, as well.”  
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now, with the Bugs…”  
“The hell we can’t,” I snap out. “At some point, you have to just step up to it. And I know, I know. I’m the last person to teach or preach Realpolitik. But there’s too much at stake here. That’s what Gwen and I were talking about, in a way.”  
“It’s a lot of fuss over nothing,” Emily says, quietly. She hands me the empty glass, and I chuck it into the recycler where I’ve put my coffee mug. The recycler sighs softly and breaks the glass down into its constituent elements, ready for reuse when called for. “Really, it’s nothing, and that’s what I’ve been telling David. But he won’t listen.”  
“Brockton attacking you is basically Grandon attacking me, Emily. Not in a physical sense, mind you…” Packard begins pacing. “It IS something. I just don’t really know what to do, except my plan that I shared with you…”  
“Which is?” Gwen asks.  
“I want Emily to be assigned to your staff, live in the Draka quarters. Grandon and Brockton will continue to try and hit me any way they can, and if I can get Emily out of the line of fire…”  
“And I told you I don’t want to do that, David!” Emily’s voice rises. “No offense to those present, but I don’t want to live with the Sna—I mean, Draka.”  
“Oh, hell, call us Snakes if it makes you feel better,” I chuckle. “Sticks and stones may bounce off my bones, but a pulse weapon’s faster.”  
All of them turn to look at me with the identical, quizzical expression. I smile. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me, a common phrase from my time line. Not that accurate, but lots of people said it. I just… modified it a bit.”  
“I wouldn’t have an objection to having Emily on my staff as a temporary solution, David. But you’re sidestepping the main issue, I think. We Draka are more direct, perhaps.” Gwen sits down on my couch, crossing one leg elegantly over the other.  
“I meant no offense…” Emily begins.  
“None taken, young ‘un,” Gwen replies, smiling. “You’re upset. I’ll—we’ll—give you leeway.”  
“I have to focus on the Bugs right now, Emily. And I can’t do that if I’m constantly wondering if you’re safe or not. Safe from our own people—how sad is that! I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Packard says. “Every Samothracian that came through the mole hole agreed to work together, and now…”  
“And now you find you’ve got a power struggle going on. That’s very damn familiar territory to me, David. You and I need to go for a walk, talk this out. Maybe, just maybe, you can take some advice from me about Samothracian politics.” Gwen nods at Emily and me. “And these two can set up Emily’s new quarters here in the Draka settlement area. With appropriate security, of course.”  
“Of course,” I nod. “Emily, quit avoiding the issue, and come live with us for a bit. It’s not that bad, I promise you. And it’s not like you’re becoming a Metic Citizen or something. You’re just… an honored guest. A protected one.”  
She sighs, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, hell. Oh, sorry, David. Yes, I’ll do it. I’m sorry to be a bother, but I’ll do it, if it’ll help you. And please, talk with the Archon. I think that’ll help. We can’t afford to be divided right now… the latest intel says the probability of an attack is…”  
“93%, as of 0800 local time today. Up from 85%, yesterday. So yeah, it’s coming. And yeah, we better be working together this time, or it’ll be bad. Really bad.” Packard and Gwen nod. Emily brushes a tear away quickly. I take her hand. “Come on, let’s get a habitat pod set up for you. Tell me your favorite colors…” We walk out of my habitat (light blue, sea green highlights, if you’re interested in décor), and Gwen and David follow. Once on the main walkway, they go off together, talking quietly but intensely. Emily and I head towards Technical Directorate Supply headquarters.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

“Well, this is the best we can do at short notice… plus, we’re pretty tied up with keeping the refugees in housing without making them feel like sardines. But that’ll hopefully only be a short term problem, and then things will improve…” I look around the pod, checking things off in my head. Food dispenser, bathroom facilities, bedding area, work area… not much, but better than a tent. Or a log cabin with an outhouse, I think, and smile.  
“Oh, this is great,” Emily grins. “I’m amazed at what you can pull out of your hat, Erin Kane. Really, I am. And thanks, from my heart.”  
“Oh, it’s ok…” I ruffle her hair affectionately. “For a Samo, you’re not half-bad. At least you’ve a detectable sense of humor.”  
“As opposed to, say, Grandon?” The young woman grimaces but then quickly schools her face to be pleasant again. “Sorry, that just popped out. I feel like I can talk with you… it’s easier than talking with… well, I mean…”  
“It’s easier than talking with Gwen and David about it?” I sit down on the low couch in the work area, by the desk and chair combo. The desk and chair look like wood, but both them and the couch are memet, memory molecule metal—they grew out of the pod’s inner surface, on a command from my transducer. I’d done that before Emily entered, since it takes some getting used to. I pat the couch next to me. “Set a spell.”  
“OK,” Emily says, sitting down next to me. She impulsively throws an arm around my shoulders, then kisses me.  
I rock backwards in surprise. “Wait a sec—we went through this—and you haven’t had anything to drink, either. What’s up?”  
“I can’t just kiss you?”  
I shake my head no. Inside, of course, the ramped up Draka libido is roaring, and I have to make a conscious effort to control it. It can be fun, but it can also be an impediment at times. “Honey, listen…”  
“What?” She pouts a little. “You’re getting too used to willing Servus wenches?”  
“No…” I sigh. “It’s just that… we’re developing a good, solid friendship, and…”  
“You’re not attracted to me. OK, I get it,” she says, as she pulls her arm away.  
“Dang it! Let me finish!” I put her arm back around my shoulders and lean against it, effectively holding it between my back and the couch. “Please?”  
Emily sighs. “OK.”  
“I want the friendship first, before anything else. And you’re coming off an emotionally-painful thing with what happened with Calvin Brockton. I don’t want to have you regret anything later. And, God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, we’ll have a later. Lots of laters. And we can explore things then, physically, if you’d like. Please, Emily, can we put the physical—the sexual part—on hold for a little bit? I’m more than willing, if you are, but it needs to be later. I have enough on my plate to deal with, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.”  
Emily looks into my face for a long moment, and then smiles a little. She nods, and then snuggles her head down on my shoulder, resting it where my shoulder joins my chest. I feel her sigh, and I ruffle her hair a little, again. She’s a good kid and all, but I’m not ready for the emotional ups and downs of her beginning to explore options she never knew she had. Mainline Samothracian society doesn’t think being gay is normal; they expect everyone to be hetero and have lots of happy human kids, to one day grow up and defeat the evil, awful Snakes. I sigh, too.  
“Gosh, Erin, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”  
“I know, I know. I just was thinking how short-sighted we can all be at times. Samos, Snakes, these new humans here and their Sky Gods…”  
“Were you thinking about someone in particular? I’ve been so damn upset about my drama, I haven’t been a good friend to you, and asked you about it. But then again, I didn’t know if you could… or would… talk about it.” She shifts a little so she can look up at me. “Can you?”  
“Oh…” I swallow hard. “About my son?”  
She nods, waiting.  
I blink away sudden tears and try to smile. “I’ve been so damn busy…”  
“Oh, come on, I know you’re still part human! You can’t just lock everything away…”  
“Babe, you’ve been in combat now a couple of times, haven’t you?” I look down into her eyes.  
“Yeah…”  
“OK. You know how when you’re in the thick of the shi… of things, you’re focused only on getting what has to be done, done?” She nods again. I go on: “That’s something the US Navy taught me. I have to shut some things away so I can carry on, get things done that matter for immediate survival. I can, and do, lock things away, to deal with later. It goes back to my theory of energy.”  
“What’s that?” She takes my free hand in both of hers and holds it. “You’re not going to lecture me about physics, are you?”  
“Hell no!” I chuckle. “No… this is a personal thing. I think we’re all born with X amount of personal energy. Some people just naturally have more than others; it’s a wiring thing. But you have a certain amount. As you grow older, or more responsible, you figure out how much you have. And then you have to make decisions—how will I spend this energy? Will investing it here, or there, or in that drama over there, help me or hurt me? The more you spread out, the less you have in reserve. If you spread it all over creation, eventually you’re going to crash and burn.”  
“OK… plausible…”  
“Yeah…” I nod. “At least for me, it makes sense. Sounds like it does for you, too. And right now, with the evacuations, and the ramped-up defense plans, and working things out with the Samos, and dealing with these new humans, and wondering about their Sky Gods, and when they might show up… and working some personal stuff out with Gwen about me being more Draka now than human… that’s it. That’s all I can afford. I have some left over for you, because I care about you so much… but I’m running on empty.”  
“And I’ve been so insensitive…”  
“No, no…” I shake my head. “You’re dealing with some scary shi… um, stuff… of your own.”  
“You can curse if you want, it really doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m not the prude I once was, you know that, Erin.” She smiles, squeezes my hand. “And yeah, your energy theory makes sense. You’ve been incredible with all the work you’ve been doing!”  
“I have a great staff.”  
“You’re being modest.”  
“Yup,” I nod. “I’m not all Draka yet…”  
“No, you’re not. So you’ll just deal with losing Patrick later.” Her voice’s soft. I can smell the shampoo she uses—some sort of light floral scent. I rest my chin gently on the top of her head.  
“Yes. I have to. Later.”  
“I just want you to know, I’m so sorry, Erin. I really, truly am.” She hugs me closer.  
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Tears have risen to my eyes again but I blink them away, stuffing things away in a locker where I can get to them when I can. “I do. And it means a lot, it really does. Thanks, Emily.”  
“Why do things have to be so damn crazy sometimes, Erin? I mean, we have this mole hole of all mole holes to explore, and now we have the Bugs, and Grandon… and then…” She shudders a little. “Calvin.”  
“What’s up with him? Is he just a total ass wipe or what?”  
Emily chuckles at the term. “I always thought he was OK… quiet, but not odd. And then he began hanging out more and more with the Grandon crowd, and he just seemed to change. He got angry about everything. He told me he wanted to go on a walk with me, to talk things over…” She sits up, rubs her hands over her face. “And I believed him. Can you believe that?”  
“Yes.” I look over at her seriously. “Yes… I can. You think you can trust people, and then sometimes find out in the worst possible way you can’t.”  
“Oh, yeah…” She blushes.  
“No, I’m not talking about Patrick… told you, that’s been locked up, filed for later.” I get up, order us a couple of teas from the food dispenser. “I was just thinking of other people—shipmates, friends even, who turned out to be bad news. But what makes me wonder is why? Why did he seem to change? It sounds sort of sudden, Emily.”  
“It was!” She takes the tea mug I offer, inhaling the scent. “Oh, this is wonderful! What is it?”  
“It’s an Irish breakfast tea… I like how it tastes—it’s stronger than some, but still sweet.” I sip mine. “What would make him change like that?”  
“Damned if I know. He was a nice guy. But then when we met, and he wanted me to ditch supporting the Admiral, and support Grandon instead…” Emily sips more tea. “I wouldn’t, and he got furious. He said he’d make me. I thought maybe he was joking—I certainly didn’t read him correctly. Then he got even angrier, and grabbed at me. We fell, I scratched him, he hit me, I managed to get away… but he was more than angry, Erin.”  
“What do you mean?” I lean against the desk.  
“He was, well, you know… um…”  
“Um?”  
“OK, I’ll just say it. He was excited. Like we were a married couple! Or on a serious date. And I’ve never shown any interest in him, that way. Ever. When we were fighting, I realized he wanted more than just me changing sides politically. When he had me down on the ground…” Her face whitens. “It was really uncomfortable.”  
“Hmm.”  
“That’s it? ‘Hmm’?” She looks over at me, over the rim of her mug.  
“Well, it could have several reasons… he’s always had an unrequited crush on you; he got turned on by the physical contact; it was part of a plan to either entice you or shame you into compliance with the Grandon party, or…” I stop, considering.  
“Or? All those are pretty damn objectionable to me, just by themselves. There’s something else?”  
“I need to talk with Schalk about it.”  
“Oh, no, Erin, please… I thought this was just us, not politics and… and… them.”  
“No, I don’t mean go to him and tell him your encounter. I mean, if you want to, you can, or tell David, who can tell Schalk. But no… we’ve noticed Grandon’s changed behavior, and I wonder if Calvin Brockton’s behavior is linked somehow. It’s like there’s something there we don’t see, and it’s important. So no, I’m not going to tell Schalk everything, but would it be OK if I mentioned how odd Brockton seemed to you, how he’d changed? That might factor into some research…”  
“So you’re surveilling Grandon? I mean, the Draka are?” She puts the mug down on the desk, empty. “I guess it’s all right if I tell you—Admiral Packard is investigating, too. Not just because of the Calvin thing, but there have been other things.”  
“As in?” I take our empty mugs and toss them into the recycler. It hums happily. I turn back around and look at the young Samothracian woman. “It’s time to put our cards on the table, I think.”  
“Other people—other Samothracians—have been, well, acting oddly in the past couple of weeks. And they’re all part of Grandon’s political circle. At first, we thought it was just politics. That’s always been a lively field of endeavor in Samothrace. But this is something more. They’re angrier, and acting out the anger more. They’re more abrupt, less able to listen… there have been several actual physical fights over in the Samothracian areas. We’ve kept it under wraps—you know, the united front and all that—but it’s just gotten worse in the last two weeks. So the Admiral’s investigating, with a small unit of his old buddies.”  
“Well, he should sit down and talk with Gwen then, because Gwen has Schalk investigating Grandon. Maybe if we put all our pointy little heads together, something will make more sense.” I tug at my walking blacks, straightening them. “And we don’t really have much time to waste… the Bugs are coming, we know that much. Not exactly when, but we know it’s on the way… Hell, Emily, what if Grandon is a fifth columnist?”  
“A what?”  
“A fifth columnist—a group that attacks from inside while outer forces attack at the same time. In my timeline, it goes way back to the Spanish Civil War—the 1930s. This guy had four columns or groups of troops attacking from the outside of an area, and he told people he’d have a fifth column of people inside the area attack as well. The name stuck.”  
“Oh my God, Erin, maybe that’s it! And that’s why their behaviors have changed—their attitudes, everything.” She runs her hands through her thick hair. “But to align with the Bugs, against the humans… and the Snak—I mean, the Draka—that’s just unthinkable. Horrid!”  
“It was ‘unthinkable’ a few years ago that Samothracians and Draka would actually have a peace treaty, but that was before we knew about the Bugs. And maybe the Bugs have offered her something in return, something she really wants; something that really motivates her. Hatred’s a good fuel, at least for a while. And she certainly has the old-time religion hatred of the Draka. Even for a Samothracian, she’s hard-core. Isn’t she? Even before the Bugs, she was over the top about things?”  
Emily nods. “We need to talk with the Archon and the Admiral, don’t we?”  
“Yep. Let’s do this thing, then.” I grin. “If it rains, it pours, right?”  
“You’re going to have to make me a dictionary of your sayings, one of these days, Erin,” Emily says, linking one arm with one of mine. “You’re full of them!”  
“You better say that with a smile, Pilgrim…” I gruffly mutter, then grin more widely at her. “Got it?”  
“Yeah, yeah… I ‘got it’,” she replies, tugging me out the hatch. We walk arm in arm towards the central command center. I send Gwen a message via transducer, and know that she and Schalk will be waiting. Packard’s with them already. Should be interesting… what was that curse? I think to myself. May you live in interesting times, that was it. Sure ‘nuff, it’s true.  
As we approach the center, Emily slows down a little, then touches my hand gently. “Um, Erin…”  
“Yeah?” I think I know what’s coming, but keep my face schooled to blandness, or friendliness or something.  
“Uh…”  
“Hey, we’re running short on time, kid. Got people waiting…”  
“OK. Um, could you not mention what happened just now to the Admiral? He has enough… to think about. OK?” She looks up into my eyes, searching them for something.  
I nod. “Fine by me. I don’t have a problem with that.” I gesture towards the HQ. “Ready for some work?”


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

“I take it this room is very, very secure?” David Packard looks across the table at Gwen, steepling his fingers. Despite his attempts at posturing and being authoritative, we all know who’s in charge here.   
Gwen nods, slowly. A spare gesture, and Schalk stands up. He looks around at all of us—Gwen, me, Emily, David, Tamarindus, Yolande. “Yes, Admiral, this room is very secure. We can speak our minds here. And talk about mutual benefits.”  
“Mutual benefits… finding out that one of my closest subordinates has somehow made a deal with the Bugs? I wouldn’t call that a benefit.” David leans forward, looking down at the table. “I have to say, I’m shocked. I’m really shocked. I wasn’t… I mean, I know politics, but this…”  
“It’s a benefit now that we know it. And yes, it’s a bit surprising.” Gwen’s voice is gentle but firm. “We can use both to our advantage. And we’ll have to move quickly. There’s no time to spare over hand-wringing and wondering.”  
Emily glances over at me, a movement of her eyes only. But the Draka in the room track it. Gwen pauses and then looks over at Emily. “Do you have something to add?”  
“Who me? Um… no. I was… ah, just thinking…”  
“I’m sure she was thinking about something she and I just talked about—having to put certain topics on a shelf, so to speak, while dealing with other, more pressing issues. Putting Patrick’s death away until we finally kick the Bugs’ asses so hard they never come back, to be precise.” I run my hands through my hair, then sip some coffee. The smell of it—rich, creamy—relaxes me. For some reason, sitting down here and facing this crap has somehow relaxed me a great deal. Maybe it’s finally facing it.  
“Ah, yes.” Gwen nods slowly. “Yes, we don’t really have time for that now. Draka have no problem compartmentalizing, but humans have some trouble. Is it an issue, David?”  
“No. We need to act. I want Grandon and her… followers… removed. Period. How do we do it without alerting the Bugs, and triggering an attack?”  
“Maybe that’s what we want to do.” Yolande smiles, a mere baring of her teeth. There’s nothing friendly about it. “We need to act soon, and it’s best to be on the offensive. The Romans knew that. If we don’t strike now, then our biologic plan could be compromised. We aren’t quite sure how deep Grandon’s organization goes, and if they could have gotten information to the Bugs yet.”  
“Are you sure that’s what we have to do?” Emily says, the disgust palpable in her voice. “Biologics? Really?”  
“Do you have a better, utterly secret plan or weapon hidden somewhere?” The “wench” isn’t spoken, but the disdain is there in Yolande’s voice. Even humans could pick up on it; and they do, indeed. Emily’s face flushes red.  
“Our weapons systems have worked in the past… we just need to be more coordina--“  
“Weapons systems like what we’ve used in the past have most certainly been leaked to the Bugs, through Grandon. They were fairly useful in the past, but less so now,” says Tamarindus, speaking for the first time. Her voice is more level than Yolande’s. Emily’s head snaps around to face the Draka Legate.  
“But biologics…”  
“Are simply another weapon.” Tamarindus stares at her. “Or do we have another personnel problem here, too?”  
David clears his throat. “No, no. We just have a cultural problem with biologic weapons, after the end results of the Final War. It’s not a problem using them against the Bugs. I’ve decided that. And you’re right, Yolande. We have to strike soon.”  
“So how do we help Grandon trigger the Bug attack?” Gwen sits back in her chair. Schalk walks over to one bulkhead, and at a command from his transducer, a screen appears as an overlay on the memet wall. Our defenses here on this planet, as well as around the Mother of All Moleholes planet, are highlighted. Small sparkles appear and disappear; those are the tiny moleholes the Bugs have been testing. The frequency of their tests is obviously increasing in intensity and duration.  
“Here’s where we are… Draka in red, Samos in Blue, indigenous populations in green.” The tall blonde man makes another spare gesture. “Yes, these are the molehole attempts the Bugs have been trying. And yes, they’re increasing. Our best analysis is that the attack will come within five to ten hours.”  
“And most of them are centered here… not there,” I point out, pointing at the Mother of All Moleholes site. “Do they not know about it? Wouldn’t you want to attack there?”  
“They certainly do know about it, since Grandon knows about it,” Tamarindus replies. “But I think they want to decapitate the leadership.”  
“Ugh!” Emily blurts out then covers her mouth. “Sorry.”  
“It’s a technical term, although with the Bugs, they probably wouldn’t mind doing it literally, either,” Gwen chuckles. “They’re coming here to eliminate us—we’re the main threat to them—and then they can exploit the moleholes as they wish. That’s fine, they’re coming to us. Let them.”  
“Our ships are ready; everything’s loaded. The biologic warheads are on missiles—thanks, Erin, for the old style schematics you found for us. It may be old-school, but it’ll be effective, damn effective.” Yolande smiles at me, this time in a friendly way. I relax a little more and smile back. “We need to make sure all the humans have been vaccinated.”  
“There’s a vaccine?” Emily asks.  
“Yes, of course. Just in case. All of us have been vaccinated. It would be very prudent for all of you—even the indigenous humans—to get it, and have it done quickly. Airborne spray?” Yolande looks over to Gwen, who nods.  
“Now wait a second!” Emily glares at Yolande, then Gwen. “We need to …”  
“You need to pull yourself together, Lieutenant,” growls Packard. The Admiral in him shows his teeth. “This is war! We’ve decided on this approach. Get with the program. Or send in your second-in-command. We can have you sedated for the duration. Which is it?”  
“Uh…” She looks stricken. I don’t think she planned on David Packard snapping at her, but she’s been in laa-laa land for several hours. I don’t know if it’s the attack she went through, or just all the stress. Her kissing me was also…  
“Schalk!” I snap out, and as if he’s read my mind—well, he’s read the message I just sent him priority—he leaps into action, pushing Gwen’s chair back, blocking any access towards Gwen with his body, while I latch onto Emily’s hands, pinning them to the arms of the chair. There’s been too many anomalies with her in a short period of time; something’s wrong. I don’t know what, and frankly, at this point, I don’t care. All I care about is protecting Gwen and David.  
“Gah!” Emily gasps, as she tries to pull away from me. The doors to the room dial open, and several Security Directorate Draka run in, their black uniforms and visors making them look metallic, un-human. “No!” Emily says, looking up at me. “No, I’m not one of Grandon’s…”  
“Not consciously…” Schalk says. He pins her head to the back of the chair, grasping her chin between thumb and forefinger, holding her immobile despite her bionic, augmented Samothracian strength. “But there’s something wrong, and we can’t take any chances…”  
“Wait, please, don’t… don’t euthanize her.” David Packard speaks up. He’s standing now, his chair pushed back. In fact, we’re all standing, in various attitudes of readiness. “Let us deal with her, please, Gwen. She’s been a good aide… she’s not one of them, I can swear it.”  
“Then sedate her now. Or my people will take her apart, literally.” Gwen’s voice is cold. Calm. Deadly.  
“No, please, David… what’s going on? Erin, stop! Let go of me, DeLange! I haven’t done anything…” The young woman looks helplessly at us, pinned to the chair. “I’m telling you…”  
“She may have been compromised during the attack,” I say quietly. “She’s been acting oddly since then, moreso than I’d expect. Emily, it’s not your fault. We’ll take good care of you, please, just listen.”  
“Hell no!” She kicks out, knocking me away with well-placed strikes on my legs. She manages to almost but not quite slither down the chair, away from Schalk, but he simply climbs on top of her, pinning her down. She goes ballistic. “God! Get off me, you goddamn Snake! You fucker… get the hell off me!” Her fists are making contact, but Schalk’s not budging. At a quick nod from Gwen, four SD move in, one for each appendage. In moments, she’s immobilized, but not her mouth…  
Foam appears at the sides of her lips and her eyes are filled with fury. “Packard, call them off! I mean it! You bastard! Let the fuck go of me, you… Snakes! You shits! Let the hell go!”  
Another SD walks up behind her, a small medcomp in her gloved hand. I turn away, feeling sick, assuming Gwen’s putting Emily down, permanently. Yolande’s watching almost avidly, a small smile on her face. Tamarindus takes me by the elbow, walking me over to the opposite side of the table, next to David. He’s so angry, he’s shaking with rage. “Lieutenant! At ease! Damn it!”  
Suddenly Emily goes utterly limp. The Draka removes her hand but the medcomp stays, growing over Emily’s form like a cocoon. I hear David gag and he turns away sharply. It’s not very nice to look at, but my legs are throbbing where Emily kicked me, and I just want all of this over, so we can concentrate, for God’s sake, on the Bugs.  
“This is part of a distraction plan, isn’t it?” I look over at Gwen, who smiles slightly. She nods. The SD personnel carry the limp, cocooned form of my Samothracian friend from the room. Another Samo comes in, a young man, his face ashen as he sees the form go by him.   
“Sit down, take notes, do whatever Admiral Packard orders you to do. Or else. We don’t have time for this silliness.” Gwen points at Emily’s chair, lying on its side. “Sit down, now.” The young Samo officer sits, looking from her to the rest of us.  
David returns from the corner of the room, looking pale. He grabs a glass and fills it with water from a pitcher on the table, and slugs it back like it’s whiskey. “Do what the Archon says, son. We have to get ready for the Bugs.” He nods at Gwen. “OK, let’s get the people vaccinated. And can we have some of those warheads?”  
“Good. Glad you agree, David. We need to cooperate.” Gwen sits down, straightening her tunic. Her hair isn’t bristling quite as much as it was when we were wrestling with Emily, I notice, but her voice control is amazing. She never let her voice rise, or even quiver, during all that. To hear her, you’d think she was as calm as anything. I wish I was, and try to recover the relaxation I’d felt.  
“Activate the aerosols, Schalk,” Gwen continues. “And no, we thought the Samothracians would do better with these…” She has a weapon’s schematic appear on the screen Schalk had been using. “Again, something older, but something the Bugs won’t be expecting. And again, thanks to Erin. Railguns. With radioactive slugs. According to tests we’ve done ,these weapons will disable the Bug ships quite rapidly, punching holes in them from quite a safe distance. The slugs, however, are so hot that your ships will have to be… volunteer crewed.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yes. The only way to be damn sure… we have the biologic weapons delivery systems in place; the railgun systems can be put in your ships—we’ll only need ten ships—in approximately two hours. They’re encapsulated, of course. Compatible with your electronics and ship superstructure. Technicians are waiting… will you give the order, Admiral?”  
“Yes. Make it so.”  
The aide nods, scribbling an order on his computer. He looks wide-eyed at the Admiral. “Sir, Captain Grandon… she… she…”  
“She’s saying it’s treason, isn’t she?” Archon Gwendolyn Ingolfsson smiles. “How lovely.”  
“You planned on that?” Packard says, quietly.  
“Yes ,of course. Now she’ll make a big fuss with the Samothracians, your people, and while that’s going on, several things will happen. The Bugs will be alerted, told there’s a new weapons system—the railguns—and we’ll play our next little surprise, one she won’t be prepared for.” The Draka—my lover—grins, stretches her arms above her head, sighs. “I do love this sort of strategic game playing. And I’m good at it, damn good at it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”  
“What’s the other surprise?” I ask quietly.  
“Railguns, with warheads, on Draka ships she thinks are only supply ships, not battle-ready ones. With hand-picked crews. Our biologics will go in after the railgun ships. The aerosol vaccination is already almost done. There may be a few humans who haven’t been covered, but needs must. The Samos will run around in circles, arguing about treason, and who’s in command, and we’ll strike first. The Bugs are due to come through about… now.” She glances at the screen, and seconds later, it’s covered with yellow stars, indicating molehole intrusions all around us. “And now, we wait for about ten minutes, and see who wins.”  
**  
I hand Gwen a brandy. “You’d planned all that out… when?”  
She laughs, a silken sound, and strokes my hair with her free hand. “Oh, I’m always planning. One of the reasons I’ve lived to be over 500.”  
I take a sip of my wine. “I just wondered…”  
“No, seriously, I’d started wondering about Grandon quite a while before the Bugs began making themselves a nuisance again. She was always a pain in the ass, like Felice Vashon was for Eric Von Shrakenberg, but not as deadly, I don’t think. She just wanted power—but didn’t have an idea of what to do with it, or with whom she was dealing,” Gwen savors the drink slowly, then continues. “If you underestimate your enemy…”  
“Yes,” I nod. “I agree. At least we didn’t make that mistake, this time.” I look out over the trees, from the deck we’re standing on. There are some scorched places—where either Bugs or Draka or Samo ships went in, or where we’d fought the remnants on the ground by hand. The trees will recover slowly, I know. I sip more wine.  
“No, we’re very good at learning—and adapting—most of which is due to you, darlin’,” Gwen says, moving next to me on the wooden deck. “And I’ve yet to tell you thank you.”  
“A personal thank you or one from the Prime Archon?” I grin up into her tanned face, pushing my ash blonde hair back from my eyes.  
“Which would you prefer?”  
I laugh out loud—the first time in a long time I’ve done that—and she joins me, then leans down and kisses me, hard.   
“I’ll take the personal one, thanks…” I manage, as her arm winds around my waist.   
“How convenient! Just what I was planning…” The Prime Archon whispers into my ear, as she guides me down to the chaise lounge nearby.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

“What’s this?” I eye the data disc speculatively. “More work? What’s the saying, no rest for the wicked? I thought I could take a break, with the Bugs scattered to hell and gone.”  
Gwen smiles, perches on the edge of her desk. “No. It’s a message from Patrick. If you want to hear it.”  
Oh my god. My stomach lurches and I know Gwen’s reading my body language, scent, pupil dilation—there’s no hiding my shock, or my unease. Or the swelling grief. I’m not sure I can handle this. “Ah…”  
“Of course, you don’t have to view it now. Or ever. But it’s been gone over with a fine-toothed comb, technically, and our Security Directorate folks think it’s a-kay.” She looks kindly at me, compassionately. “And Schalk and I think it’s a-kay. But…” She reaches out slowly for the tiny silver disc.  
“No, no…” I slide it into a reader, and a translucent screen appears on the desk near her. Patrick’s there. The recording technology is so good—if it could include scent, it would be as if he was right there. I brace myself. God, seeing him. Seeing him again, so pale, so earnest. Before… before they killed him, killed my son. Who tried to kill me. I grip the edge of the desk, waiting for his voice.  
“Ma? Ma? They said I could… leave you a message. And I know what’s coming. Believe me… it’ll be a relief.” His voice cracks a little at the last word, but he clears his throat and goes on. “I hope they’ll let you see this. I don’t know.”  
Patrick looks off camera for a moment, then back into the lens. “Ma, I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. It’s just that… we tried to get you to understand, so many times. Sometimes I think you just ignored me, but other times, I know we butted heads. We have two very different… views… philosophies. Hah! That’s funny, thinking about dying for a philosophy. It sounds like dying for a stamp collection or something.” He smiles, looking just like his Dad in that moment, Peter. And a lot like me. “Ma… listen. Even though we couldn’t… work things out… I still admire you for sticking to your ideas. I just can’t live with them, though. I can’t forget that I’m human, and they’re not.”  
Human? Have I forgotten what it’s like to be human? To find out that the woman you’re working for isn’t a human at all? How she’s going to take over the world—with her people, if possible; by herself, if not. God, Patrick, I’ve never… I snap back to his voice in an instant. This is painful enough going through once; I’ll be damned if I have to tell it to replay.  
“They’re not. You’re not. Alice was right in a way—even before the mods, you’d changed.” Patrick looks down at his hands, then looks back at us, his eyes full of tears. “And I miss you. Missed you. Tried my damndest to talk with you, get you to see it…”  
A voice breaks in, Schalk’s. “Get on with it, boy.”  
Patrick looks over to his left, fear flashing across his face. Oh, God, my son, my son… what did they do? My son…  
“Ma, sorry. Got off track. OK. Please forgive me for being involved in the plot to kill you. I really didn’t want to go that way. But finally, after trying everything else, that’s all we had left. If you weren’t with us, you were with them. THEM. And I can’t live under them, or with them as some sort of Metic whatever. And I know, I know, you can. And you don’t understand why I can’t. And I don’t have a way to explain it to you anymore. Not that it would make a difference. You always said, ‘Made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it.’ I remember.”  
A sob breaks through my control. I feel Gwen’s hands on my back, caressing, soothing… I stiffen, then lean into her arms. Patrick’s image continues:  
“Ma, I’m sorry, to you. I love you… loved you. No matter what else… that’s been true, all along. Just please, please, do something for me… keep the human in you alive. Remember us, the real humans. Don’t abandon us for them, completely. I know you have a plan, an idea… and you’re somehow a lot more compassionate than I am, or the Draka are. I don’t know how that’ll work out. I know my… I know I’m going to die now. I just wanted to say goodbye, and that I love you. Forgive me, if you can. Don’t forget me. Ma... Ma…” His head drops. The light dims in the room where they have him, and the image freezes.  
“Gah!” It bursts out of me, and I bolt upright, surging away from the desk, away from Gwen. If I could climb out of my skin, I might. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn all of this…”  
Gwen stays by the desk, letting me pace from end to end of her office—and being Draka, and Prime Archon, it’s a big office. I find myself pounding one fist into a hand, hard enough to hurt. To break through the mental pain, that has to be pretty impressive. I look down, and the receiving hand is red. Better take it easy, girl. Inside, I’m howling. Torn. Heartbroken… I never knew, really, what it mean, until now. Thinking about Andros Island, and how this all began, Peter and me, we were so naïve, so young. He’s gone, now Patrick’s gone. God.  
I stop suddenly, remember something Peter said to me in Bethesda, as we were healing from the wounds we suffered when our aircraft carrier was sunk, so many years ago. I was sitting by his bed, watching his face as he slept. He woke abruptly, looking up into my face with those baby blue eyes. “It’s you!”  
“Who were you expecting?”  
“A Chippendale, maybe?” He smiles slightly, then grimaces as the pain from his wounds breaks through again. “How long have I been…”  
“Playing Snow White, waiting for your Prince? Oh, about three hours this time. You’re getting better, honey. Really, I know it doesn’t feel that way, but you are…” I stroke his hand, avoiding the IV lines. My back aches and itches from all the stitches I have and the broken ribs but I ignore it.  
A nurse hurries in, since one of his monitors has started beeping. “Let’s see… I think some more morphine would help. Your blood pressure’s going up too high, sailor. Does your gal pal need to push off?” She smiles at us both, and puts the morphine into his IV. “It’s going to sting, sorry…”  
“No, no, don’t leave, Erin, don’t leave…” His eyes grow unfocused, his voice blurry. “No, please… stay.”  
“OK, I’ll be here when you wake up, Snow White.”  
“Erin…” He whispers. I lean down to hear him, my back protesting violently. “Listen to me…”  
“What, honey?”  
“Where there’s life, there’s hope. Don’t give up the ship. All that crap. But seriously, don’t give up on me. I love you. I know you’re hurt too, I think I remember that. Don’t… don’t… give… up…” He nods off into the arms of Morpheus. Well, at least Morpheus is a male god; Peter loves the boys, I think, and slowly straighten up, just in time to catch the eyes of the nurse.  
“I wasn’t really kidding about you pushing off. Your medical team’s fussing at us for letting you stay here so long, with your wounds being such…”  
“Ah, it’s ok. Really.” I look down and notice Peter’s hand has wrapped itself around mine. “He sleeps better when I’m here. And I don’t sleep so well right now.”  
“At least stretch out in the recliner… and rest a little.” She gestures at the chair I’m sitting in. “And that’s an order, sailor. He’s right, where there’s life, there’s hope. Where there’s love, there’s hope, too.”  
**  
I come back to the present, relax my fist. Stop pacing, take some deep, deep breaths. Walk to the wash room, wash my face in cold water. Look at myself in the mirror. You’re still human, at least part of you. No one can take that completely away. You’re not all human, you’re not all Draka. You’re something new. You can’t quit now. You can’t. Too much has happened. And you’ve kept bad things from happening, more than once.  
Like the Navy said, “Carry on.” Even when you’re not sure why. Or how. You just do it. I splash more water on my face, dry off. Straighten my tunic, run my hands through my hair. Look again in the mirror. I can do this.  
“Better?” Gwen asks, softly, as I come back into her office. I nod, slowly.  
“I knew it would be tremendously hard, but it was something I felt you should see and hear. We debated about it, certain-sure, but in the end, felt it was best. You’ve been compartmentalizing all the grief since Patrick was… put down… and I didn’t think it was good for you. Of course, we were busy surviving at the time, so that helped, in a way…” She makes a small gesture with one of her hands. “As if anything really helps with that sort of pain.”  
“I know, you’ve lost loved ones before,” I murmur, coming up close to her. “And thank you. Yes, it was god-awful painful, but thank you for allowing me to hear and see Patrick again, one last time.” She holds out her arms and I gratefully accept her hug, her strength. I rest my head on one of her shoulders, feeling exhausted.  
“Nothing really prepares you for that sort of loss, sweetlin’, and nothing really takes away the pain, except time. It does help; it mutes it somehow. But it never goes away.” Her voice is soothing, soft. “I know.”  
“I know I’m not all human anymore.”  
“Yes, that’s correct,” Gwen replies.  
“But I’m not all Draka, either.”  
“Mmh-hmm.”  
“So what the hell am I?”  
“You’re my life partner. You’re one of my ablest Councilors. You’re a Metic Citizen. You’re all sorts of things.” Gwen holds me away from her a moment, looking down into my eyes. Leaf green Drakensis eyes meet hazel green used-to-be-all-human eyes. “What else would you have me say? You’ve got an idea about how humans and Draka and servus and anyone else who wanders by can live together harmoniously. We’re trying it out, in steps. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be there.”  
“Does it have to be so hard?”  
“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be as worthwhile, or so said your Puritan ancestors. We Draka might have different ideas about that, but we also believe good things are worth working hard for… sacrificing for. You know that.” She pulls me to her again. “I’m sorry it’s so hard. I wish I could make that better. I try.”  
“I know. You’ve been tremendous for me, you and Schalk, and Tamarindus… even Yolande’s come around. I’m blessed. I know. It’s just… hard… to let him, to let him go. But as hard as it is, I have to do it. I have to forgive him and move on. I don’t want it to derail us, to damage what you and I have managed…” I choke up.  
“Shhh…” She kisses the top of my head. “It hasn’t damaged anything like that. And I’ll always be there for you, as you are for me. I know that, and so do you. And the others. But most of all, the two of us. We have whole worlds—whole universes now to explore. Since we defeated the Bugs—we have so much to gain. And we can do it together, can’t we, Erin Kane?”  
I nod, my face against her chest. “Yes, Gwen. Together, we can…”


End file.
